Why Can't the World Stop Turning?
by rantandrumour
Summary: She had been dreaming for years to see her again. But after three long years walking around in a frozen world, will her illusions be crushed?
1. Chapter 1

The world needed to freeze. It was something that had always perplexed her, ever since she was three and the fish she had owned died. Why, when your world froze, did the rest of the world have to keep moving?

Now, however, it was far worse than losing a goldfish. It was the worst thing that could happen, and now she really couldn't understand why the world wouldn't stop for a moment. Her mum had died, and still everyone went on laughing and chatting away, posting stupid statuses on their Facebooks.

Even three years later, it still felt like she had just learned about her mum's death. Her world had stopped turning at that moment, screeched to a halt and refused to start moving again. No matter how hard she tried, the fact of the matter was that her mum was her best friend. Losing her mum was the only thing she couldn't even fearfully imagine before the shooting.

It was as though her life had been split in two and those pieces would remain distinctly separate. Before Mum and After Mum, she called them to herself. Before Mum were the happy times, the times of laughter with her and Evan. Before Mum was the time when she'd sneak files just to impress people about her knowledge of psychology, when she'd go to the park or beg her Mum to bake her biscuits.

After Mum was bleak. In fact, she could not remember the last time she had smiled. Evan had taken her to psychologist after psychologist, but she refused to speak to any of them. None of the idiots he had taken her to see were the psychologist she wanted.

That was the thing that Evan couldn't understand. He showered her with gifts, but there was only one gift she wanted. She wanted her mum back.

Molly knew what was wrong with herself. She was suffering from clinical depression. She refused to take drugs, refused to talk to anyone. She had lost all her friends gradually after her mum had died. She had stopped responding to texts, voicemails went unlistened to. She knew she was completely alone now. And that suited her just fine.

She entered the house, letting the door slam shut behind her. Evan had given up trying to tell her to stop slamming it. She did it every time she entered and left, and she would continue to do it until something drastic happened.

Molly knew that Evan wouldn't be home yet. He was working late now at his office, something she didn't really mind. Anything was better than the awkward, strained conversations with him.

The truth was, she had never really forgiven him for taking her mum off of life support. She knew her mum was fighting to wake up. She knew her mum wouldn't give up. Molly was convinced that the doctors were wrong. Their scans were wrong. The bullet had barely punctured the frontal lobe. There was no way that her mum had lost all brain activity from that.

Evan, however, had listened to the wankers. It had been a little over a month since she had been shot. He had taken her to the side and explained what was going to happen to her mum. Molly had argued profusely, but to no avail. He had already signed the paperwork, and even as he spoke to her, they were taking out the feeding tube and ventilator that had sustained her mum's life.

She sat in the room from the time the doctors left until the moment her mum died. It had taken nearly eighteen hours, but she had been there the whole time, holding her mum's hand, trying to persuade her to come back. Eventually, however, at 9.06, the telemetry monitoring her mother's heart had signalled that her heart was no longer pumping.

She had been shoed from the room at that moment, and the doctors went in to pronounce her mum dead.

Four days later, the funeral was held. Molly had not said a word to Evan in that time, hardly even acknowledging his existence. She had even refused to ride home with him, speaking one sentence to him for the first time in days. _"I'm taking the bus." _

Three days after her mum's funeral, her father and his fiancée had shown up to offer their condolences. Peter Drake had tried to persuade her to come live with him and Judy in Canada, but Molly met this idea with even more of a distaste than living with Evan. A slightly relieved Pete had left the very next day, not even stopping at his ex-wife's grave.

Molly threw her things on the ground, changing out of her uniform into jeans and a jumper. She always wore long sleeves now. Only Evan couldn't figure out the reason for her wanting to wear them year round, the tosser.

She turned on her stereo, the bass pumping loudly, and padded silently down the hall to a room whose door was permanently closed. She turned the handle and walked in, closing the door quietly behind her. Molly inhaled deeply, breathing in the musty scent of the room. She still could detect traces of her mother's smell, but she knew it was only her brain fooling her. Scent wouldn't last this long in the air.

A bed was in the middle of the room, made neatly. Her mum had always made her bed in the morning and tried to persuade Molly to do so as well. Molly would sometimes do it, but usually with loads of grumbling along the way.

Molly climbed onto the bed, curling up into a ball on the left side. Whenever she had a nightmare, her mother would move to the right of the bed, whispering away the nightmare as Molly clung to her tightly.

The door downstairs shut. Molly looked at the clock. Damn. He was home early. She padded silently out of her mother's room, back to hers, where the music was still blasting. She knew Evan would come up here to tell her to turn the music down in a moment. She grabbed her iPod and headphones, stuffing them in her pocket before sitting on the floor, grabbing a pencil and her sketchbook. She started to sketch, and sure enough, three minutes later, there was a knock at her door.

"Turn it down, Molls," came his voice from the other side of the door. Molly sighed, considering turning up the music louder. However, she decided against it, instead getting up and turning it off.

Molly walked down the stairs, putting the earphones in her ears and turning on her iPod at full blast. She knew from this level, Evan would be able to hear the music within ten feet. She walked out the door, ignoring his shouts from behind her. Molly walked down to the bus stop, getting on just as Evan turned the corner. She grinned as the bus started up and he was left behind, merely looking annoyed. Eventually she got off the bus and walked to where she wanted to go. Her mother's grave.

"Hey Mum," she said quietly, sitting on the grass about six feet in front of the headstone. She never liked walking through a cemetery, she knew she was walking over dead bodies and that made her uncomfortable. She sat a distance from her mum's stone, because if she sat any closer, she felt she'd be sitting on her mother.

Molly opened her sketchbook, opening to a clean page. She closed her eyes in concentration and started to sketch, letting her hand lead and her mind wander. Eventually, as it was just starting to get dark, she looked down to really see what she had drawn.

Her face was on one side of the page, the picture expertly drawn and shaded. Even the streaks of black in her hair were included. The face she had drawn looked depressed and angry, and was surrounded by smudged grey. On the other side she had drawn her and her mother together, both smiling and happy. They were hugging, and Molly was almost her mother's height. There were no smudges of grey on this side, the page around the two sketches was pristine. In the middle of the page, separating the one side from the other, was a gravestone. There was no epitaph on it, the words still waiting to be carved in.

Molly grinned, realising she had just given herself the answer to getting her mother back. The gravestone, it would have words carved in it soon.

She stood, staring at the gravestone through the twilight. "I'll see you soon Mum," she whispered, smiling to herself.

Later that night, the sketchbook lay open to that page from the graveyard, all but forgotten as the owner fell to the bed heavily, the pill bottle falling out of her hand to the floor, landing with a clatter that alerted the man downstairs that something may be wrong. He ran up the stairs, screaming her name, but she was already floating away into blackness. She was going to meet her mother. The world had stopped turning, and now, finally, so had she.

**Rant**


	2. Chapter 2

**So! You all surprised me! This was only going to be a oneshot. And in the fabulous reviews you asked me to give you another chapter. And loads of you put it on alert as well. So, I considered it, and put the first chapter with two or three fic ideas I had turning, and have come up with what looks to become a fully fledged angst fic :) Thanks to you brilliant reviewers! And thanks to those who read and put on story alert and favorite!**

**Chapter 2**

It was difficult to wake from her slumber. As she slowly woke, the disappointment set in, overwhelming her. She wasn't supposed to wake up. She was supposed to die, to be with her mum for the rest of eternity. If she could move, she'd punch something.

Molly waited for her consciousness to ebb back before trying to open her eyes. However, as her senses slowly returned to her, she started to realize that something was wrong. It was much too hot, and something didn't smell right. It smelled almost like...a bonfire. She frowned inwardly. It was nowhere near bonfire night. As her sense of hearing came back, she realised she could hear crackling.

She grew tense, unable to break her slumber. The house had to be on fire around her. She had to get out!

Molly tried desperately to move, but was unable to, the drugs still inhibiting her nerves from responding. Suddenly, she heard a male voice.

"We've got one in here!"

Molly was aware of being picked up into someone's arms and being hoisted into a fireman's lift. She was being rescued. Although she was happy, she was also disappointed. Dying was the only way to get to her mum. Now that she had been rescued, the wanker that was her godfather would be watching her even more carefully than ever. She was certain that if she was taken to hospital, the shirt would be taken off and replaced with a gown, revealing to Evan everything he was too stupid to realise.

He couldn't realise it. Not until it was too late. And since she still seemed to be alive, she had to wake up, and soon. Molly fought against her eyes, finally succeeding at opening them a crack. Instantly the smoke started to burn and she shut them again until she smelled fresh air.

"Who've you got there, Paul?" someone asked.

"She was sleeping in one of the rooms."

"She doesn't live here!" said a woman's voice indignantly. "Who is she? Why is she in my house?"

Someone was gently tapping her on the face. Molly opened her eyes to see a fireman kneeling over her. "You okay, love?" he asked.

"Who cares? I want the cops here! I want her arrested! She set fire to my house!" a woman was screaming from a few feet away.

Molly shook her head. "I don't understand," she murmured.

"You've got a nasty cut on your forehead. Let someone from the ambulance look at it."

Molly consented, noting the sun just starting to peek over the horizon. "What time is it?"

"Just gone seven in the morning."

Molly frowned. She had been out that long without Evan finding her? That was odd. After she had snuck out several times the year before, he had made a habit of checking her when he went to bed and when he went for a piss around one in the morning. He always went to bed before her. Wouldn't he have found it weird that she was sleeping?

Molly rolled her eyes. He wouldn't have cared. Maybe he was hoping that she would die. That way he could be free of the Price/Drake family forever.

A man came over to her and investigated the cut on her forehead. "This doesn't look too bad," he said kindly. "It's not very deep, and definitely doesn't need stitches. The worst you're gonna get is a nasty bruise."

Molly nodded as he grabbed something to clean up the wound with. She grimaced as he put some antiseptic on it, but the pain was quickly gone. He put a bandage on her head and patted her on the shoulder as the screeching of tyres sounded through the air. "You're just fine," he said.

Molly simply nodded, jumping down. She noticed for the first time what she was wearing. She was still clad in skinny jeans and converse, but her top had changed. Instead of the jumper she wore earlier, she was wearing one that hung off the shoulder, a vest showing underneath. Molly frowned. How did she get into these clothes?

"Where is she?" a man roared from nearby. He was tall and blonde, a black coat covering his suit. The man he was yelling at didn't even flinch. The man had a perm and a polo neck, and was smoking a fag. Molly frowned. What, was he out of the 1980's?

"She's not bothered to come, Guv."

"I want you on the phone with her now. It's her own problem if she has a hangover. Tell her to get over it and come in ASA bloody P."

The man with the perm nodded and pulled out a radio. Meanwhile, the woman who had been yelling earlier had worked her way over to the blonde man. Molly took this as her cue to leave.

"Hang on, Miss," said a man, putting his hand on her shoulder. Molly almost snorted in laughter. He was wearing tight white trousers and a green plaid shirt, accented with a red leather tie.

"What the bloody hell are you supposed to be?" she asked, unable to keep herself from laughing.

The man frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Look at you! God, you look ridiculous!"

The man frowned and opened his mouth, but the blonde man interrupted.

"WonderChris! Bring that girl over here!"

Molly tried to work her wrist out of the man's grasp to no avail.

"She had to have done it!" the woman cried. Molly sighed. This woman was extremely annoying to say the least. "Why else would she be in my house?"

Molly could tell that the woman was starting to get on the blonde man's nerves as well. He ignored the woman, instead turning to her and pulling something out of his pocket. Molly's stomach dropped as she saw it. Handcuffs.

She instinctively tried to run but the man with the perm grabbed her and held her tight as the blonde man started to cuff her.

"I am arresting you on the suspicion of arson and home invasion and for trying to resist arrest." He continued to read her her rights before the man with the perm took her to a uniform car and tossed her in.

Molly spent the entire ride trying to worm out of her handcuffs, trying to remember the trick her mum had taught her when she was young. However, as the car slowed down, Molly remembered that she had simply pulled her hands out of the cuffs because her mum had not locked them tight enough. She sighed, starting to look out on the street. It was confusing. Everyone was wearing clothing that belonged in the eighties.

As the car stopped, Molly saw a woman walk into the station. Her hair was in a perm and she was wearing a white leather jacket and boots to match. Molly smirked. _God help us all, _she thought. What was it with this part of London and perms? Had they become popular while she was sleeping?

The uniformed police officer led her out of the car and into an interview room and sat her down.

"DCI Hunt will be in to interview you in a moment," he said stiffly, before leaving. Molly heard a lock click behind him. She sighed. Great. Now she was locked in here.

Molly sighed, waiting impatiently for the DCI to come in and start interviewing her. She tugged uselessly against the handcuffs binding her wrists together. She was only two aware of how quickly things could go wrong. Right now she was facing charges for arson and home invasion and she didn't even bloody know where she was.

She didn't have an excuse either. Molly knew she had absolutely no reason to be in that house. She had a sneaking suspicion this was all a hallucination from the drugs she had taken, but she didn't particularly fancy sitting in a stinking cell, even if it was in her imagination.

Bored, Molly looked out the window, catching her transparent reflection. She grinned. The hallucination had made her hair completely black, making her almost completely unrecognisable. She almost laughed as she imagined Evan's reaction to seeing her. He had gone mental when she had simply put the black streaks in her hair. As Molly continued to stare she realised that her previously shoulder length straight hair was now crimped. She smirked. Soon she'd be wearing white leather as well.

Suddenly the door slammed open and the blonde man came in, followed closely by the man with the perm. Molly suppressed a snigger. The man looked utterly ridiculous.

The man with the perm unlocked her handcuffs and she moved her hands to the front of her body, rubbing her wrists and glaring at them.

The man with the blonde hair offered her a fag, and she accepted, reaching into her pocket and finding a lighter. She lit up and stared at the two men. "Shouldn't you know if I'm even legal to smoke?" she asked dryly.

"Are you?" the blonde man asked, as if he really didn't care.

"Well, if I wasn't, I wouldn't tell you now, would I?"

"I could force you to tell me, couldn't I?"

"How'd you manage that?"

The blonde man smirked and nodded towards the man with the perm. "Ray here had a curry last night. Believe me, we make him work in the evidence room after he's had one."

The man named Ray smirked and grabbed his stomach. "And this one didn't settle well, Guv," he said laughingly.

Molly just rolled her eyes. "Lovely."

"Not what I'd describe it as, love," the blonde man said. Molly just sighed and took a long drag on her cigarette, propping her black converse clad feet on the table. She noticed the change in their faces and realised she was annoying them by being so calm.

"What were you doing in that house?" the blonde man asked suddenly.

"Why don't you ask that mad woman who was running around on the scene?" she asked sarcastically.

"So you _were_ committing arson?" asked the man with the perm excitedly.

"Nope," she said.

"What were you doing there?" the blonde man asked.

"Learning how to tango." She took another drag on her cigarette and started to blow smoke circles, smirking as she saw the man's face go red. She knew she shouldn't be riling up a copper, but she couldn't help it. He was to easy.

"I'll ask you again, only slightly louder. _What were you doing in that home?"_

Molly shrugged. "Sleeping."

The blonde man stood and walked over to her, taking the fag out of her mouth and stomping on it. "Teenagers," he muttered to himself. "Can't stand any of you lot."

Molly simply raised an eyebrow. The man glared at Ray. "You're not helping."

Ray stood up. "I'll send in the Ma'am," he said, looking disappointed.

"You read my mind."

Ray left the room, leaving the man glaring at her, two inches away from her face.

"What's your name?"

"Lucy, Countess of Bedford." Molly couldn't help but be sarcastic. There was something about this man she didn't like. Maybe it was the whiskey on his breath or his nicotine stained teeth. She resisted the urge to just kick him where it hurt.

"I swear to God, if you don't shut that smart arse mouth of yours..."

"I thought you wanted me to answer questions, Sir," she said innocently, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

The man made a violent strangling motion in the air as the door opened.

"Christ, Gene, calm down," a woman said as she walked in. Molly's heart started to race. She knew that voice.

Molly stared at the woman who had just walked through the door. It was her mother, complete with a batwing top and chunky jewellery. Molly made a sort of strangled choking noise and her mum turned her attention to the table. Her mum smiled softly at her. Molly's stomach dropped. It was not a smile of recognition.

"Sorry for the rude behaviour of my DCI. I promise he'll be more civil when I'm in here," she said, glaring at the blonde man.

"Now, let's get down to business. What's your name?"

If her world hadn't have frozen three years earlier, it would have stopped now. She was finally back with her mum, but now, her mum didn't know who she was.

**to be continued**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the reviews I have gotten. Rereading them really brightens my mood. The next update should be next week, but I'm not sure as I've still got Deceit and Betrayal to finish, and something else completely unrelated to work on. But this shall be posted soon :) Enjoy!**

**Chapter 3**

"What's your name, love?" Alex repeated.

Molly raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "You're serious," she stated. She had to confirm it. Her mother had no clue who her daughter was. She felt anger and resentment start to build inside her.

Her mother frowned and nodded. "We need your name first."

Molly felt the anger turning into burning rage. She had tried to _kill herself _to get back to her mum, and now her mother didn't even recognise her! She let out a short, sharp laugh.

"I'm not telling you my name," she said stubbornly. "You can figure it out."

"I'll charge you with perverting the cause of justice!" the blonde man roared.

"I don't care. Alex here should know who I am. Hell, it's only been three years since the last time we saw each other."

"I never said my name," her mother muttered, confused.

"And neither has blondie here, but still, I know it," Molly said fiercely. "Poor Alex Drake," she continued quietly, almost whispering. "Must've lost her memory after the bullet to the skull. Of course, it wasn't just _her_ life that was over, was it?"

Alex stared at her a moment in confusion and disbelief before turning to Gene. "Get out, Guv!" she yelled, her voice choked in anger and horror.

"I dunno Bolls," he said doubtfully.

"She's what, fifteen? I think I can handle a teenage girl, Gene."

The blonde man glared and left the room. As soon as the door slammed shut, she leaned over the table.

"How do you know that about me?" her mum demanded fiercely.

Molly had to admit, her mother was scaring her slightly. She hadn't seen this look in Alex's eyes before. However, she swallowed her fear, replacing it with fury.

"I know loads about you, Alexandra Margaret Price Drake," Molly smirked. "You're the daughter of Tim and Caroline Price. Evan White's goddaughter. Lost your parents at eight. You hate David Bowie, especially the song Ashes to Ashes." She was raging now, speaking almost too quickly, only talking in a whisper. "You got married too young and your husband Peter left you when your child was six months old. You were a hostage negotiator for Scotland Yard. On the seventeenth of July, 2008, you went missing on your way to work. They found you; they tried to save your life, but your godfather took you off life support. If only you hadn't have had that stack of reports. Maybe then the bloody daughter you _fucking forgot about_ wouldn't hate her birthday so much. But you did. I can't believe you forgot," she ended quietly.

Alex was staring at Molly, her mouth open and her eyes turning from angry to broken. "Molls," she breathed.

Molly shook her head. "Don't call me that."

"Molly, I..."

She shook her head again. "I don't even want to hear it. Just take me down to the cells and leave me to rot or whatever." Her mother moved towards her, but Molly backed away.

"Molly, please," her mum begged.

Molly felt the control slipping away from her mum as she desperately tried to win Molly over.

"You forgot me," she said coldly.

"This world, it..." Alex managed before Molly cut her off.

"It doesn't matter. _I'm your daughter._ You _forgot _me! I spent three years imagining how to get back to you! Three years of _torture, _Mum! After you died, I had no one to talk to. I was completely alone in the world. But you've moved on just fine I see."

"I had to adjust, I had to..."

Molly cut her off again. "And to adjust, you forget everything about your old life and fall in love with a complete bastard?"

"Language!" her mum said automatically.

"I don't give a flying fuck about language! That man is an arsehole Mum! And you replace me with _him_?" Tears were pouring down her face now, and her mother embraced her. Molly tried to push her off, but Alex held her too tightly.

"I'm sorry, Molls," her mother said.

"Don't call me that," she said stiffly.

Alex pulled away a little bit, looking surprised. "Why not?"

"You owe me an explanation," Molly stated, staring straight into Alex's eyes. She knew that anger and contempt were evident through her expression and she wanted to give her mum the full force of it.

"Sit down."

"No. I'm not doing it here. I want it you and me, not in the middle of a police station."

"Well, getting you out of here at the moment is looking a bit problematic," Alex responded sarcastically. "What were you doing there Molly?"

"I wouldn't expect you to recognise the address," Molly said bitterly. "That was our home in 2011. In 2008. We didn't move out after you died. I fell asleep and woke up here."

Molly noted her mum flinch when she said the word 'died.' She realised from the expression on Alex's face that she didn't know yet. However, her mum just brushed it off.

"Our home? And what do you mean you fell asleep and woke up here? You don't just fall asleep."

Molly looked out the window, not wanting to answer the question.

"Molly," said her mother sternly.

"I had some pills, okay? I got some in one of the courses of therapy that the wanker put me through."

"You mean Evan," Alex said dryly.

"I never took them like I was supposed to, but last night, I...I kind of swallowed the entire bottle."

Her mother's mouth dropped open. "But Molly, you...you..."

She nodded.

"_Why?_ What could possibly possess you to...?"

"Not here. Get me out Mum. Use the excuse that it used to be our house or something. Say we haven't even been able to send letters, and they didn't change the locks, so I could still get in."

"Stay here," Alex said.

"Mum," she called as her mother opened the door. Alex turned, looking hopefully at her daughter.

"Can I have some paper and a pencil?"

She saw disappointment flood Alex's face before her mother nodded and walked out of the door. Molly stared out the interview room window for a few minutes until Alex returned with a blank sheet of A4 and a pencil.

"Here," her mother said, looking hurt and worried. Molly said nothing, merely grabbing the paper and pencil and starting to sketch. Alex walked out of the room quickly, but not before Molly realised what had caused a change in the air.

Molly had control. She had stripped her mum's authority, both as a police officer and a mother. Molly started sketching, smirking to herself. She had originally taken the drugs to be back with her mum. But now, she realised that a happily ever after ending wouldn't come. Her mum had forgotten her. And for that, Molly would make Alex pay.

~(*)~

Alex leaned against the interview room door, exhaling loudly and holding back tears. Unbidden, something she said to Shaz came to her mind.

"_What if I start forgetting where I'm from and then I forget that I've forgotten Shaz?"_

She had sworn not to forget. But she had. She had stopped making her tapes, stopped listening to them. To her, Molly had become nothing more than a distant dream.

And now, she turned up looking and acting completely different and being accused of arson. Alex pressed her fingers to her nose. What had happened since she had been shot?

Viv walked up to her. "Ma'am. Here's the statements from the family that owns the house. And the fire chief's been on the phone. He says he can't find any signs of arson."

Alex nodded at Viv, but on the inside she was doing a victory dance. Molly was safe on one count. Now it was just home invasion.

Alex moved to her desk and looked through the file at the woman's statement.

_We moved in around early July, 1981. I don't remember who the previous own of the home was, but she mentioned that her daughter had gone away and the house held too many memories. They handed over the keys and that was that. It's been perfectly peaceful until this morning when I woke up to the smell of smoke. The fire brigade found that girl in there, I don't know who the hell she is, but I'm guessing she set the fire and then got hit on the head by something on her way out._

Alex stopped reading, smiling to herself. This was all too easy. She stood and walked over to Gene's office. Not bothering to knock, she strode in. Gene looked up as she settled on the corner of his desk.

"No, Bolly, I wasn't in the middle of anything important. Go ahead and let yourself in, and next time, you don't even need to knock!"

"Shut up Guv," she said good-naturedly.

"What have you got?"

"Viv caught me in the hallway and said that the fire chief rung and said it wasn't arson."

"So that rids the girl of one charge."

"Secondly, the home invasion was accidental."

Gene looked up. "What? How is that accidental?"

"I didn't recognise her at first – the hair you see – but then, after you left, I did."

"Is this going anywhere or do I have time to run to Luigi's and back?" he asked, taking a swig of scotch.

"It's Molly, Gene."

Gene started choking on his scotch. "What?" he coughed.

"That was Molly. My daughter. We haven't had any contact since 1981. Late June to be precise. That's when her father took her away from me. He didn't allow me any rights at all. Said I was too dangerous."

"That doesn't explain why she was in the house."

"If you were just patient!"

"I wouldn't need to be if you didn't prattle on for eternity and a day!"

"That house used to be my house. I sold it in early July because it was too much for me to be there."

Gene nodded his head to her story, thinking. "So that little rude..."

"Don't finish that sentence. Yes, she's mine, and it's obvious her father has done nothing to discipline her."

"What are you going to do with her? Ship her back?"

"No. I'm going to try and sort this out, but for now, she'll be mine. I'll get her enrolled in school and she can live in my flat with me."

She saw the distaste on Gene's face and felt she had to say something. Molly had certainly not made a good impression on him. "She's not normally like this."

"How do you know, Bolly? You haven't seen her for three years. This may just be her norm now. She could just be a brat."

Alex felt the anger building inside her. "You have no right to say that," she hissed.

"Calm down Bolls."

Alex just threw the file down on his desk. "I'm taking the rest of the day off. Molly's coming with me. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

With that, she stormed out of the office. She knew that Gene was probably right, but that didn't make it any less difficult to hear. She couldn't persuade herself that Molly would continue to act like this, though. She knew that as soon as Molly settled in she'd be back to her normal self.

Alex paused at the window of the interview room and looked in. Molly's hair had been pulled back, so it was out of her eyes. One of her feet was up on the chair, her knee next to her ear. Her other foot was tucked underneath her leg on the chair. She was drawing with fervour, stopping a moment to stare at the work. Alex couldn't make out what was on the page. Maybe she could get a glimpse if she went in.

Alex walked in, only to see Molly hastily shove the paper in the pocket of her black skinny jeans. "Everything's all worked out," Alex said.

Molly nodded, her eyes boring into Alex's. Alex knew that she was angry. Molly had every right to be angry. But Alex would help her get over it. She was certain.

Alex could tell that Molly's world had frozen when she was shot. _I will get it turning again,_ she swore to herself. _If it's the last thing I do, I will make her world spin once more._

**to be continued  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all the brilliant reviews last chapter! The angst shall continue for a while, I have to say. Prolly at the end of chap 6 or so it might brighten up a bit. at least... i hope so... :D Enjoy!**_  
><em>

**Chapter 4**

Molly followed Alex out of the station, noting the surprise on the face of the desk sergeant. Molly simply glared at him and he looked away. She smirked, feeling that she was quickly earning herself a reputation around here. She didn't care. They might be real, or they could be constructs, but either way they had taken her mum away from her. They had made Alex_ forget _about her. She had every right to give them some form of hell.

Alex opened the door to her flat. Molly noticed how tense she seemed, a mix of worry and anger flowing off of her in waves. She followed her mum into the flat, taking everything in.

"Really? _That's_ your sofa?" It was absolutely horrid, the black and white diagonal stripes screaming the era they were supposedly in.

"It came with the flat," her mum said, speaking her first words since they left the interrogation room. "I didn't have anything when I woke up here. Just a warrant card."

"So...what _is _here?" Molly asked, flopping herself down on the ugly couch. It was surprisingly comfortable and she propped her feet up on the coffee table.

Alex shook her head, sitting next to her. "I don't know. I used to think it was all in my head. But now...I'm starting to think that Sam was right."

Molly laughed loudly. "Sam? Sam Tyler? You really think we're all just back in time?"

"What else can it be?"

"What if...?" she pretended to think. "We're all _dead?"_ she said as if talking to an idiot.

"But no," Alex protested. "That can't be. I'm not dead. I'm fighting to get back!"

Molly's mouth dropped open and she laughed in disbelief. "You aren't fighting to get back Mum. Honestly. You aren't fighting to get anywhere. You've forgotten your daughter, forgotten your time and are infatuated with your bloody boss. Besides, you've got nothing to fight _for. _You've been dead three years. Evan took you off your life support a month after you were shot."

"No," Alex breathed, looking lost. "I can't be dead. Not after everything..." she trailed off. Molly almost felt guilty. She knew enough from her mum's psychology books to know that no one should have news like that broken to them so harshly. There was a long moment of silence.

"Did they catch him?"

"Who?"

"Layton."

"Yeah. They found you as soon as the gunshot went off. You hardly made it to the hospital though. They didn't even think you'd make it through surgery, but you did. The doctors were convinced you'd be a vegetable if you ever woke up, but I knew you wouldn't be. They convinced Evan that the best thing would be to take you off the vent, to let you go without even risking you waking up. The bastard agreed with them. No one believed me when I said I saw your eyelids move. They thought I was making it up so they'd keep you alive. But I did. I saw them. You weren't strong enough to wake up completely, but you were getting there. And no one listened to me. Because I was too young to know what was going on. I had to let the 'grown-ups' make the decision. And because of that, you died. You could have made it, Mum, but because of my _wanker_ of a godfather, you died."

Molly could tell that Alex was numb. She had to be, hearing about how she died.

"What about you? How did you get here?"

"I couldn't take living with him anymore. I had no one to run to, and I wouldn't be able to make it on my own. All I wanted was to get back to you, Mum. I withdrew. Evan had put me through course after course of therapy. He bought the drugs they prescribed, he tried the techniques they suggested, but I wouldn't let them work. I just pulled back further. I didn't take the pills either. I just wanted him to suffer, the way he made me suffer by killing you. I couldn't be without you anymore. And then yesterday...today...whatever. I visited your grave and realised that finally, I had found a way out. I took a whole bottle of the antidepressants. I mixed it with paracetamol. I shouldn't be waking up."

Molly saw disappointment in Alex's face. She didn't understand. Shouldn't her mum be happy to see her?

_She wouldn't be, _Molly realised suddenly. _She forgot about me and now I turn up out of the blue. I'm just an inconvenience to her in this world. _With this horrible realisation, the room fell into silence once more. Once again, Alex broke it.

"I told Gene that you ran away from your father's. In a few days, I'll tell him that we've worked it out and he's given me custody. In the meantime, we'll get you enrolled in school."

"How? I don't have any records of anything. They're all in 2011."

"They'll turn up," Alex said confidently. Molly just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She wanted a fag, but she knew if she even tried to light up, Alex would kill her. She focused on her shoes, trying to ignore the silence that had fallen over the room for the third time in an hour.

_We don't know what to talk about anymore. We've been away from each other for too long. _

Molly stiffened as Alex's fingers touched her hair. "It's so dark," she said softly. "When'd you do this?"

"It was never like this. I got some black streaks a few months ago, but Evan flipped shit and I was never able to go completely black. He probably would have made me shave my head or something."

"So you woke up and your hair was the colour you wanted it to be," Alex murmured.

"Yeah, and it was all crimped and stuff. Still, it could have been worse," Molly said, looking pointedly at Alex's perm.

"I'm growing it out!" she said defensively.

"Yeah, but how long have you been here?"

Alex looked down. "About a year."

Molly rolled her eyes. "You're lying. You look down when you lie."

Alex sighed. "Two and a half years."

Molly burst out laughing but it was cut short by a loud knock on the door. Alex stood immediately, and Molly knew from the look in her eyes who was standing in the hallway. Sighing, she stood as well, instead moving to the table to finish her sketch. She was going to have to get a sketchbook, and fast. Molly hated folding her drawings. The crease in the paper always ruined the picture.

She heard her mum say something to the man outside and heard his rumbled reply. Molly considered eavesdropping for a moment, but then the voices rose to shouting level.

"Just send her back then!" he bellowed.

"She's not an item of clothing, Gene! I can't just return her like an unwanted pair of shoes!"

Molly closed her eyes and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Her mum had just confirmed what she had thought earlier. She was just an inconvenience to her mum.

She put her headphones on and pressed play on the walkman she had found in her pocket. David Bowie's _Heroes_ started blasting in her ears, drowning out the voices. Her hand moved with fury, shading and sketching out her fury. She knew she had to leave.

Molly was angry at herself. She had throught that her mum had missed her. No she had _deluded _herself into believing her mum would miss her.

_Well, _she thought, _you've made it bloody obvious how you feel now._

She continued working on her drawing, not stopping until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Molly pulled her headphones off and put her arm over the drawing. She hated people looking at her work.

"Molly, I have to go back. There's been a break in a big case and they need me."

Molly simply nodded. "I know. You've got a stack of reports," she said bitterly, knowing that it was unlikely Alex would pick up the reference.

"Do you need anything?"

"I just want to get a sketchbook," she said. Alex nodded, laying a few notes on the table.

"There's a Tesco just a few streets away. Just go to the end of the street and look right and you'll see it."

Molly nodded. "I'll see you when you get done."

Alex smiled and walked out the door without a single glance back.

Molly let out a deep sigh. It was clear that her mum didn't want her here. It was time for her to leave. Grabbing the notes on the table and stuffing them in her pocket, she left, forgetting the drawing she had worked so intently on only moments before.

~(*)~

Alex rubbed her head, filling out the last file before she could get back to her flat. She felt bad for leaving Molly alone like she had, but they really needed her on the case. However, Molly had said something just before she left that had distracted her through the whole interview and the filling out of paperwork.

"_I know. You've got a stack of reports."_

Why did that make her feel guilty? There was something about the phrase that rung in her head but she couldn't figure out what it was. She glanced up at the clock. Four minutes until lunchtime.

Alex sighed. She wasn't even sure she wanted to go back to her flat at the moment. The girl that was currently inhabiting it was not the daughter she had always dreamed about getting back to. This girl almost scared her in some ways. Her casual tossing around of the words like _wanker, bastard, _and _shit, _told Alex who Molly had been hanging out with. Plus there was the distinct smell of cigarette smoke on her clothes. Whoever her daughter had been, she had been replaced with this dark, angry version.

Alex sighed and put her head in her hands. Molly had _killed _herself to find her. Alex couldn't help but feel disappointed. Molly had had her whole life in front of her, and because Alex couldn't recover from a bullet wound, Molly had thrown it all down the drain.

"_All I wanted was to get back to you, Mum."_

And what a horrible mother she was. She had completely forgotten her daughter's existence. But could anyone really blame her? The world made people forget about their previous lives, she now struggled to remember who Evan White was, besides a lawyer she had trusted a few years previously. And Molly had looked so different.

Alex shook her head. It was no excuse. She should have known her daughter.

The door to Gene's office opened. Now _there_ was someone she was furious with. She couldn't believe how callous he was, suggesting she just take Molly back and drop her on Pete's doorstep. Not that she could exactly. But Alex knew it would never be considered either. Molly was her baby. She wouldn't be able to give Molly up.

"Lunchtime!" Gene announced, staring at her.

Ignoring him, Alex jumped up, collecting her jacket and throwing it over her shoulders. She practically ran back to her flat, knocking over a few plod and an old woman in her rush. Finally back, Alex opened her door.

"Molly, I'm back. I'm sorry honey, I..."

Alex trailed off. The flat felt too empty. She looked around, seeing no one.

"Molly?"

There was no reply. A white sheet of paper lay on the table, and Alex recognised it as what Molly had been sketching earlier. She picked it up and let out a strangled sob.

It was a beautifully drawn picture of Alex and Gene, standing together and holding hands. Both of their faces were lit up with smile, seeming to be laughing. It was bright around them, but the whiteness slowly dissolved into shadows as it moved up to the left corner of the page. Molly was standing in the darkness, her face one of ultimate sadness. Quotes were next to the figure of Molly.

_Sorrow sank deep inside my blood. All the ones around me I cared for and loved. _

_Don't mourn for me; I had to set me free._

_There's no more breath left inside._

Alex stared at the paper in disbelief. Molly thought Gene was replacing her. And the quotes. It sounded like a sort of poetic suicide note. Surely she wouldn't do that, would she?

Not wanting to take any chances, Alex grabbed the paper, rushing down the stairs to the boozing coppers. They had to find Molly before something happened.

_If Molly dies, _Alex thought. _It's my fault. It's all my fault. _

**to be continued**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to all of you who have reviewed and added to alerts and favs! This fic is being written so nicely it's amazing. I haven't had ease like this since OSAS! Yay for no more writers block! :)**

**Chapter 5**

It was dark in Hyde Park, and she was freezing. She hadn't realised how cold it was out. Hell, she didn't even know what year it was, much less the month and season.

Molly stared at the ground. In 2011 she had heard some of the people in her year say that they felt like an inconvenience, but she had never understood what that really meant until now.

It was this horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, complete with the feeling of utter loneliness and desolation. She just wanted to sob her heart out, to scream at the world, but knew she couldn't. She had brought some of this on herself, as it were.

It was starting to rain. It was a freezing cold rain, soaking through her jumper and chilling her to the bone. Molly hugged her knees to her chest in the hope of warming herself up at least a little bit. She sat in this position for what seemed like hours, merely listening to the patter of the rain on the pavement in front of her and the whisper of wind through the trees.

"You look like you're freezing," said a deep voice behind her. Molly jumped up off the bench and turned around cautiously. A boy about her age was standing behind the bench. He had long, dark hair and even darker eyes. However, they were sparking with kindness and his face was full of apology.

"Sorry, love! I didn't mean to scare you like that!" he said with a slight Italian accent

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What do you want?"

The boy held up his hands as if to show her he was unarmed. "My name's Tom. I was going to show you a place where you can get out of the rain."

Molly peered at him cautiously, unbelieving.

"Honest," he said. "I've got a place with some friends to keep warm during the rain."

Molly considered it. On the one hand, she wanted to get out of the pissing rain. On the other, she had no way of trusting this person.

_Screw it, _she decided. _I'm already dead anyway. What's the worst that can happen?_

"I'll go," she said.

Tom smiled a truly happy smile. "What's your name then?"

"I'm Molly.

"Well Molly, what's your story?"

"What?

"Why are you standing out here in the pouring rain instead of indoors with a parent or someone? You don't exactly look old enough to be on your own yet."

"I ran away."

"Why?"

"My mum is in love with her boss and basically told him she didn't want me and that if she was able drop me off at my father's she would."

Tom's mouth opened in a silent '_ah'._ "I see. That's horrible. Well, we've got a place for you for as long as you'd like to stay."

"Who's we?"

"Me, my older sister, and four others. The other four are runaways like you. My sister and I kind of run everything. Our uncle helps out. He donates us food from his restaurant once a week."

"So you're kind of a Good Samaritan or something."

"I guess you could say so. I'm not religious in the slightest though. I just want to make the world a bit better. _Imagine no possessions. I wonder if you can. No need for greed or hunger. A brotherhood of man. Imagine all the people. Sharing all the world,"_ he quoted.

"Ah. Lennon's ideals."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. God, no. Lennon had the right idea."

Tom smiled. "I own every record by him and the Beatles. I still can't believe he died. I remember the day I found out about it. God, 1980? I was thirteen."

"How old are you now?" Finally! A way to figure out what year she was in.

"Sixteen. I'll be seventeen in May. How about you?"

"Fifteen. I'll be sixteen in July." So she was in late 1983, or early 1984. She guessed it at October. That was the month in 2011 in which she died.

"So you were twelve."

"I got into Lennon after he died, unfortunately," she responded truthfully. "When I was about thirteen. I had lost Mum, and loved his lyrics of peace and everything."

"Nasty divorce then?"

"You could say that," Molly said softly.

"If you ever want to tell me about it, you can."

Molly nodded as they stopped in front of a small, slightly shabby, house.

"It's not much, but here it is!" Tom announced proudly. "Let's get you inside. We've got some warm clothes."

Molly nodded, starting up the steps, but slipped on the wet pavement of the steps and she fell. The last thing she knew was the feeling of her head colliding with something extremely hard before the whole world went black.

~(*)~

Alex stared desperately at Gene. "We can't call it off, Gene. Not yet."

"Alex, face it. We've been out here since 6.30 and haven't found anything. It's nearly midnight. We shouldn't even be looking in the first place .Unless there's foul play involved…"

"What about the note? Doesn't that make it seem like she may be in danger?"

"Bolly, calm down. My guess is that she's just angry and she'll be back when she's frozen to the bone from this bloody rain. She might already be back. Let's go back to your flat, you can change into something dry, and if she's not back, we can wait. She'll be back before tomorrow, Bolls. I promise."

Alex nodded sadly. "I just…it's my fault," she said defeatedly.

"No it's not, Bolly."

"I didn't recognise her!" she wailed. "I didn't recognise my _own daughter!"_

"You said it yourself. She looks completely different now."

"I still should have known. I'm her _mum._"

Gene put his arm around her. "Bolly, do yourself a favour and stop thinking."

Alex merely sniffled, taking one last look around Hyde Park. She was certain Molly would come here, after she remembered that this was Molly's favourite place to go. However, she saw no sign of her daughter in the park.

"Let's go home, Gene."

~(*)~

The first thing she was aware of was a throbbing pain in her head. It was enormous, throbbing in unison with each beat of her heart. Every throb made the pain just a bit worse, keeping her in complete agony. She heard someone groan. Surely that wasn't her?

"_She's waking up,"_ said a voice.

"_About time," _said another. "_She's been out nearly a day." _

"_Don't you think we should have taken her to hospital Tom?"_

Tom. She knew that name. Tom. He was the one who had taken her out of the park. He was showing her a place to stay.

"_No. She's fine. Besides, if she went to hospital, they might alert her mum, and that's the last person she wants to see at the moment. Let her have her freedom."_

"_What do you think, Kate?" _asked the first voice doubtfully.

"_She's waking up. As long as there's no memory loss or anything, she'll be fine."_

Wanting to know who was all standing above her, Molly opened her eyes a crack. The bright light assaulted them, increasing her headache tenfold. She was almost feeling nauseous from pain.

Molly groaned again. "Too...much...light," she managed to whisper.

"Jimmy, draw the curtains."

Behind her eyelids, the light decreased slightly. Molly attempted to open her eyes again. This time she was able to keep them open a crack. She blinked and they opened a bit further. She kept blinking, and finally, they opened all the way. Five people were standing around her, and a sixth was kneeling next to her.

"Welcome back, Molly," said a voice. She looked over at the person who spoke. It was Tom, his eyes glittering with relief.

"What happened?" she moaned. Her head really hurt!

"You slipped on the wet pavement and hit your head," said the girl kneeling next to her, who she immediately guessed was Tom's sister. They shared the same dark hair and eyes. "He brought you in and took you upstairs, and you've been out cold since last night."

"What time is it?"

"Half five in the evening."

Molly's hand went up to her head, planning on pushing some pressure against it in hopes of relieving the pain. However, her hand brushed against a plaster and along with an extra painful throb, it sent a burning pain throughout her skull. Molly whimpered.

"Charlie, go get some painkillers."

A young girl with golden hair and baby blue eyes left the room.

"That was Charlie," said Tom. "She's the youngest, at twelve. He gestured to a ginger girl standing beside him. "This is Ella. She's fifteen like you. Jimmy here is sixteen," Tom said, pointing to a blonde with a face full of mischief. Tom pointed to the last boy, who had dark brown hair and grey eyes full of anger. "This is Ethan. He's fourteen."

"Hi," Molly managed weakly.

They all nodded their hellos and walked out of the room, except Ella, the girl who had to be Kate and Tom.

"I'm Kate, by the way," the girl said with a dirty look at Tom who just shrugged. "After we get you that painkiller, Tom and I will leave. This is Ella's room and you'll be sharing with her, so whatever she does in here is yours to put up with."

"Don't worry," Ella said with a soft Irish lilt. "I'll be quiet. I only want to read."

Molly said nothing, merely closing her eyes. The light still was hurting her head. She heard someone walking up the stairs loudly and the door opening.

"I've got some paracetamol," Charlie said quietly, something Molly thanked God for. If her voice had been much louder, she didn't think she would be able to stand it.

"Thanks, Charlie," Kate said in a dismissive tone. "Molly, can you sit up for me?"

Molly pushed herself up as best she could, only managing to get up to her elbows. She started to see spots, and the pain in her head doubled. Kate put a couple pills in her mouth and held a glass of water to Molly's lips. Molly swallowed gratefully, and lay back down.

"Thank you," she mumbled. Her eyes closed once more, and this time sleep claimed her. Kate, Tom and Ella stared at her for a moment before the girls turned to Tom.

"Do you think Luigi will give us food for her?" Kate asked.

"I'm sure he will. I'll just explain what happened. Although it doesn't really look like she will be eating much for a few days anyway."

"You might want to get going now though. The coppers will be arriving to have 'lunch' any minute now and you know how it gets when they're there. Besides, you're late."

Tom nodded. "I'll get going then."

"You sure you don't want any help?"

"Nah. You need to be here to make sure Molly's okay, and I'm not taking Jimmy. Not after last month."

"Yeah. Hunt'll probably try to arrest him again."

"Still, that bird saw things fairly. She'd distract him by wiggling her tits or something."

Kate slapped him on the back of the head. "Don't talk about women like that."

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Just go, Tom," she grinned.

Tom walked down the stairs and out of the house, waving to Ethan and Jimmy on his way out. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but he figured she was in the back, trying to persuade the neighbour's cat to come over.

That was one thing he was thankful for. If the neighbours knew what they were, they never said a word to anyone. Admittedly, it wasn't the best neighbourhood in London, but it was better than where they could be living. Tom and Kate's uncle Luigi had bought the house after their mum died, intending to live with them. Luigi had for maybe six months, before he decided it would be better just to stay at the restaurant. Kate had been sixteen at that point and decided to just live in the house, and thirteen-year-old Tom with her. Luigi made them to promise to ring if they ever had trouble, and they had lived there since. Luigi came to check on them often, and offered them jobs in his restaurant. A year later, Tom had passed Jimmy on the street. That was when he came up with the idea to house runaways or homeless kids. He had talked to Kate about it and they both talked to Luigi who approved wholeheartedly. They had made an agreement. Luigi would provide food once a week, enough for each person who lived in the house with them. If they brought someone new in, the new person must visit with Tom. Otherwise, Luigi would only serve enough for the people he knew were in the house. That way, no one could sneak a double portion, although his portions could hardly be called small.

Tom stepped into the trattoria, ignoring the crowd of rowdy officers in the corner. They were used to seeing him and him, them.

"You're late today!" Luigi said in his native Italian.

"Sorry, Luigi.," Tom responded, also in Italian. They had decided to speak in a language the coppers couldn't understand, so the whole operation could stay quiet, just like Tom wanted it to. "We had something unexpected pop up."

"Oh?" Luigi enquired.

"We've got someone new in the house. She fell going up the steps and has been out cold since last night. She woke up just before I was about to leave."

"You didn't take her to hospital?"

"We didn't want to. She's a runaway. If they contacted her mother..."

Luigi just nodded. "You're going to try and persuade her to go back, right?"

Tom shook his head. "I don't see the point, Luigi. She'll decide when she wants to go back. I have a feeling it won't be too long with her. She's not like the others."

"Try to persuade her," Luigi said, pointing to the female officer that usually sat with DCI Hunt. She was on her own, a nearly empty bottle of wine sitting next to her. The coppers were shooting her sympathetic glances, but she didn't even look up from a sheet of paper on the table. "That woman over there, her daughter ran away last night. Imagine if that was that girl's mother. Imagine how the girl's mother is feeling."

"Thanks for the guilt trip, Uncle, but I'm not going to pressure her into anything," Tom said, starting to wonder about the girl he had brought to their home last night. "I'll suggest it, sure, but if she doesn't want to go..."

Luigi merely sighed.

"I know I didn't bring her along tonight, but can you still give me some food for her? She's not able to come at the moment. She was having trouble sitting up. I'll bring her by next week," Tom said pleadingly.

Luigi nodded. "What's the girl's name?"

"Molly," Tom replied. The woman's head snapped up as soon as she heard the word, staring hazily at Tom. She stood unsteadily, and stumbled over to him.

"What do you know about Molly? What do you know about my little girl?" she slurred desperately, grabbing him by the lapels. Hunt had stood up when she did and approached her.

"C'mon Bolls," he said gently, looking at Tom apologetically as he pulled her off of him.

"He said Molly, Gene. I heard him. He knows something."

"Or you could be attacking him for saying his sister's name, Bolls. Think it through."

She looked at Hunt desperately, pleading with him to let her go. "My baby."

"She'll turn up Bolls. Just you wait."

The woman dissolved into tears. Hunt picked her up gently, and disappeared up the stairs.

Luigi merely looked at Tom dangerously.

"I'll talk to her when she wakes up again," Tom conceded.

Luigi nodded. "You bring the whole group here next week. I'll prepare you a big dinner. And she can see how the signorina is coping. See if that changes her mind."

"But Luigi!" he protested. "You know what happened last month with Jimmy and Hunt!"

"Next week. All of you. Or I stop funding everything."

Tom nodded. "Yes Uncle."

"Good. I'll get you the food now."

Tom sighed. Molly would have some explaining to do when she woke up, that was certain. In the meantime, they would need to keep a low profile. The last thing they needed were cops after them.

Luigi came back with a bag of food and set it on the table. "I'll see you and all your friends next week."

"Until next week."

With that, he walked out of the restaurant, wondering how he was going to explain all of this to Kate.

**to be continued**


	6. Chapter 6

**I think I've lessened the angst for this chapter slightly...you guys are the judges though**

**A couple words though: The lyrics in this chapter are from the song I Won't See You Tonight Part One by Avenged Sevenfold (great song, there's an ashes vid set to it on youtube) Some of the lyrics were paraphrased in chapter 4 as well, as part of Molly's drawing. Also, I don't own ashes**

**Chapter 6**

Molly stood, staring out the window into the garden. Charlie was playing down there with Ethan and Jimmy, doing God only knew what. Ella was sitting in the room, her nose buried in a book. Kate had gone to work and no one knew where Tom was.

It had been nearly a week since she had fallen on the pavement outside and now her plaster was off and her headache gone. There was still a giant scab on her forehead from where her head was cut open, but that would heal in time.

"I think I'm going to go to the park," Molly announced to Ella. She and Ella were getting along fine as roommates, both with similar interests. Well, pretty much, except that Molly had to back up her technology and music interests thirty years. She missed the two thousand songs on her IPod to pick and choose from at any point. She missed the band Avenged Sevenfold most of all. She had fallen in love with them soon after her mum had died. She would never forget the first song she had heard by them. _I Won't See You Tonight Part 1, _it was called. If she thought about the lyrics she could imagine her mum singing them. There was only one part of the lyrics she ignored. As she left the house, she sang it under her breath.

"_So far away, I'm gone. Please don't follow me tonight, and while I'm gone, everything will be alright."_

Those were the only lyrics that were inaccurate. Not everything was okay while her mum was gone. She _had _to follow in her mother's footsteps. She _had _to kill herself, even though now she had run away. Even now, hiding from her mum and living with a bunch of teenage runaways, she was happier than she had been with Evan. She had finally found people who understood what was going on, and that's what she needed.

Molly sat down on the bench, removing her jumper. It was warmer out than she had expected October to be. They had provided her with clothes after she had woken up, telling her there was no need to return anything. She was still wearing her black jumper though. She had washed the blood out of it after she had woken up. It was warm and comfortable and she loved it.

Molly pulled out her sketchbook from the bag she now carried around with her. Tom had given it to her after he realised she never went anywhere without the notebook and was always looking for a pencil that she had lost.

Molly opened up to latest sketch she was doing. It was a drawing of Tom, something she could do completely from memory. Besides, she didn't really want him realising that she was drawing him.

Her forehead itched. Molly reached up and started to scratch it, swearing as a stinging pain told her that she had just removed the scab. She held her hand up to it, but it was bleeding quite badly.

Without anything convenient to staunch the flow of blood, Molly sighed and grabbed her jumper, holding it to her forehead. After a few minutes, she checked the cut on her head. The flow of blood seemed to have stopped, but now her jumper was soiled again.

Molly threw it over the back of the bench, pulling out her pencil and ignoring the jumper. She had just finished shading Tom's face and was starting on his hair when a voice behind her startled her.

"That's really good."

"Tom!" she said, quickly closing the notebook.

"I always seem to frighten you in this park, don't I?" he laughed.

"Maybe if you didn't sneak up on people," she teased.

"I meant what I said though. That drawing was really good."

Molly blushed. "Thanks."

"Can I look through what you've done?"

She looked away and nodded, passing him the sketchbook. Tom started to flip through it, grinning.

"These are amazing Molly!"

"It's just a hobby."

"You could make money off this. Honestly! Have you shown these to any of the others?"

"I don't normally show people my work. I got told once it was weird to be drawing pictures of people so I stopped."

"Not with skills like this," Tom said. "I bet Ella would beg you for this drawing of her! Actually, I'm going to beg you for mine when you're done!"

Molly said nothing, unsure of what to say. Tom continued to look through her sketches, always returning to the one of him. Eventually, he stopped, handing her the sketchbook back.

"I promise I didn't come here just to scare the shit out of you," he said, pulling a pack of fags out of his pocket. "Want one?"

Molly nodded and he handed one to her, giving her a light. They smoked in silence for a bit, until Tom started again.

"We never really got to know you too well, Molly. Well, Ella might have, but she doesn't tell anyone anything."

"I haven't told anyone anything about me," she answered honestly

"Do you mind if I probe into it a bit?"

Molly shook her head no.

"What's your last name, first off? We never found out."

"Drake."

"Good to meet you Molly Drake. My last name is Dellucci. As is Kate's. We were both born with real Italian names, but you Brits couldn't pronounce them."

"What was yours?"

"Taht-zee-ano," he pronounced slowly, spelling it out for her. "T-a-z-i-a-n-o."

"Taziano," she said.

"It translates as Tatian, but I figured Tom would be better. Kate's is more of a direct translation. Her name is Caterina."

"I was named after my great-grandmother. And my father's cat that he had when he was a teenager," she added flatly.

"What does your dad do?"

"He writes for _The Guardian. _He wanted to be a novelist, but since that didn't work, he got into journalism."

"What about your mum?"

"She's a police officer."

"So she'll have the whole station looking for you."

"I doubt it. I doubt she'd miss me."

"Where did she work?"

"Fenchurch East," she said, proud of herself for remembering and not saying Scotland Yard, which was where her mum worked in 2008.

Tom let out a breath.

"Is that a problem?"

"No. It's just...we had a run in with them last month. Jimmy saw someone get shot, and he was the first to talk when the coppers addressed the group. The next thing he knows, he's being interrogated violently by their DCI. The DI bird got him to let Jimmy off, God only knows how she found the true killer. But when Jimmy got back, he was all shaken up, covered in blood and bruises and missing a tooth."

Molly put her head in her hands. This was the man that her mother was in love with.

"That the man that you mum prefers over you?"

Molly nodded.

"Your mum's the DI, isn't she?"

Molly nodded again.

"She wants you back. She was heartbroken when I went to Luigi's a few days ago."

"She'll get used to the idea. Just give her a few weeks."

"We don't have that long, unfortunately. Luigi told us that we have to go to the restaurant the next time we get food. He's going to serve us dinner there."

"What? When's this?"

"Two days from now."

"I can't see her, Tom."

"You have to. Luigi will pull the plug on everything if you don't," he said pleadingly.

Molly sighed, considering. She couldn't let the other ones there lose their home because she was stubborn. "Fine," she said. "I'll go."

Tom smiled. "Don't worry. We'll have it so your back is turned and none of the coppers will recognise you."

Molly smiled. "Good."

"Now, what say you we go back to the house and show Ella that picture you drew of her?"

Molly laughed as she stood up. "Fine, as long as she doesn't get to go through my sketchbook as well."

Tom grinned, throwing his arm around her. "I'll decide that."

They walked back to the house together, the soiled jumper laying forgotten on the back of the bench.

~(*)~

Alex surveyed Hyde Park through sleepless eyes. All she had done since Molly disappeared was worry. She knew the probability of a child showing up alive after 48 hours was highly unlikely.

_That's kidnappings,_ she thought to herself. _Molly wasn't kidnapped. She ran away. I wasn't a good enough mother, so she ran away. Simple as that. _

She wished she could go back to work, but Gene had forced her to take a week off, telling her she was unfit for work. He had told her in his Gene Genie way that she needed to man up and get over her daughter's disappearance, because there was nothing she could do about it. They had people looking, and Molly would show up. But until then, they needed her to focus on the cases at hand.

Alex had ignored this and he had told her to come back when she could focus on the proper case. She was extremely angry at him for this and now refused to even go near their corner table, instead sitting at the bar to get pissed every night. She had no idea how she made it upstairs every night, but had a feeling that Gene had something to do with it. The bastard.

Alex sat on a bench, pulling out the drawing. It was crinkled now from her constant folding and unfolding of it, but the effect hadn't been ruined. It still tore at her, showed her what a horrible mother she truly was.

"I'm sorry, Molls," she whispered. "It's all my fault."

Alex stood back up, a black jumper catching her eye. It was on the ground behind the bench.

_It must have fallen,_ she thought. Alex picked it up and froze, staring at it. It was the jumper Molly had been wearing the day she arrived. She pressed it up to her face, pulling it away when a wet feeling hit her face and reeling at the scent of cigarette smoke. Alex put her hand up to her face, wiping away some of the wetness and looking at it.

It was red. She let out a sob. Blood was on Molly's jumper. Molly was in trouble, possibly dead, and she was holding the proof in her hands. There was only one thing she could do. Alex started running to the station. She'd force Gene on this if it was the last thing she'd ever do.

~(*)~

"Tom. Can you come in here for a minute?" Kate called from the sitting room.

"I hate the news Kate!"

"Get in here, now," she commanded.

Tom hurried in, looking at the television. Kate only commanded him in when something important was going on.

Hunt was on the screen, holding a broken looking DI Drake as the DS addressed the crowd.

"If anyone has any knowledge on the whereabouts of Molly Drake, or spots her, please ring Fenchurch East CID," he finished.

The television switched back to the anchor. "We have a drawing of what Molly Drake looks like. Again, if you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of this child, please phone Fenchurch East CID."

"Who did you bring here, Taziano?" Kate asked dangerously, reverting to Italian.

"I didn't know that she was Drake's daughter, did I?" he replied in his native tongue.

"But you know what's going to happen, right? If we don't get reported by the time we go to Luigi's, we'll be arrested there."

"Listen, I've got an idea. They're looking for a black haired girl with a birthmark, right?"

Kate nodded.

"We bleach her hair. Put some red streaks in it or something. Put a plaster over the wound on her head and her birthmark and say she fell."

"Do you think that will work?"

"It should, as long as the neighbours don't bother phoning Fenchurch."

"They shouldn't," Kate said semi-confidently. "They don't ever bother with us anyway."

Tom nodded. "Exactly. Just trust me, Caterina. She'll be fine, _we'll _be fine, until she returns to her mum.

"We better," Kate said, returning to English. "Otherwise, it's _your_ head."

Tom sighed. _Please,_ he pleaded to the air. _Let us pull this off. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Mostly fluff this chapter, but some plot as well (you'll spot it, I promise). Thank you to all that review! Due to circumstances completely in my control, I won't be able to post next week. That's why you're getting three different updates today :)**

**Chapter 7**

"It's not going to work," Molly said.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked. They were sitting together on the couch, watching _The Shining. _It was one of Molly's favourite movies before her mum died. She would spend all day persuading Alex to watch it, only to get told that night at bed 'Never again.'

"Bleaching my hair. It'll just turn it orange. That is, if it doesn't all fall out first."

"How do you know?"

"When I got my hair dyed this colour, the stylist told me that I'd have to get it done professionally or just wait for it to grow out."

_And that was in 2011, with streaks,_ she thought. _There'd be no chance in this world._

"So how are we gonna pull this off then?"

"I'm just going to have to go in, and keep my back to her. As long as I stay relatively quiet, she shouldn't notice me. She may not even recognise me anyway. I was only with her for a solid hour before she buggered back off to work. She didn't recognise me until I mentioned her daughter. Like she'd completely forgotten about me."

"I'm sorry, Molly," Tom said, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him. Molly tried to not tense up. It was unexpected, sure, but she was excited. She really liked him. If he wanted to further their relationship... "We can make the dinner quick too."

"Exactly. And I'll draw through most of it anyway."

"As you do every single meal," he said wryly.

"I'm just not a hungry person. Drawing interests me more than food."

"No. Food interests you. I see you. Half the time you're sketching the food on the table!"

Molly blushed. "Fine. _Drawing _food interests me more than _eating _it."

"You should do a big group drawing of us at Luigi's tomorrow. You can put yourself next to yours truly, of course."

Molly grinned. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On if you lot behave yourselves or not! Honestly, the amount of food that's been thrown across the table in the past couple days..."

"We're all kids on the inside. Looking for a laugh. And Luigi won't kick us out. Mind you, the coppers might," he added thoughtfully.

"I'd happily throw pasta on Gene Hunt," Molly declared.

"Then you could start it."

They laughed. It fell silent, the only sound in the house the movie playing.

"It's not normally like this," Tom said.

"No?"

"Usually people will stay up 'til gone one in the morning or later. It's not even midnight."

"They all got worn out playing football earlier."

"Yeah, you and me were the only ones who didn't participate, weren't we?"

"That's why we've still got loads of energy."

Tom laughed, pulling her up onto his lap. "You've always got energy, Molly Drake. I can see you staying up three days and still being fine."

"It's cause I don't do anything but draw."

"Yeah. Draw food, and sit in the park. You need to add things to your repertoire."

"Like what?"

"Well, I was hoping something like this," he murmured before his lips brushed hers, pressing up against them.

Molly was stunned. Happy, but stunned. She didn't expect him to do anything like this. As if of their own will, her lips started to respond to his. Suddenly, Tom pulled away, scratching his neck.

"Sorry. Sorry. That was too sudden."

"No. That was fine," Molly said breathlessly.

"I haven't even known you a week!"

"And I've been wanting to snog you since I woke up. So stop panicking."

Tom looked at her. "Really?"

Molly blushed and nodded. "I didn't think you'd feel the same."

"You've been driving me mad since I found you on the bench. It may have only been a week ago, Molly, but it seems like we've known each other ages."

Molly nodded. There was something familiar about this boy, but she couldn't place him. She had no time to think, however, as his lips were placed against hers once more.

~(*)~

Molly walked into her room at half one, completely dazed. She hardly even noticed that the lights were still on and Ella was looking at her slyly. "What have you been up to then?" she asked.

Startled, Molly dropped her notebook. "What? What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Molly. You've only been watching a movie with Tom for three hours! I popped downstairs to grab a Coke earlier and almost went in to watch the film. I opened the door a crack and decided it might just be better to leave you two alone." Ella started laughing, leaving Molly gobsmacked.

"I...I..."

"Don't worry about it, Molls. We've all noticed how you two have been acting around each other since your migraine subsided. Tom sat by your side when you were unconscious if I wasn't up here. He didn't want you to be left alone. I can guarantee you that he wouldn't have done that for me. Nor for Charlie, but she has Jimmy, doesn't she?"

"How did they end up here?" Molly was actually very curious. She hadn't heard anyone's story besides Tom's.

"They don't talk about it at all. I only heard it the once. I don't think even Ethan knows. They were the first to come with Kate and Tom. Apparently, Jimmy's dad used to beat him. Their mum had buggered off when they were just kids and their dad was an alcoholic. Well, one day, their dad completely ignored Jimmy and tried to rape Charlie. Jimmy hit him over the head with a cricket bat, grabbed his sister and ran. He was only twelve, and Charlie eight. They were on the streets for two years before Tom took them in. Ethan's dad died when he was six. His mum got remarried when he was twelve. Six months later, his new stepfather is shipping him off to boarding school, persuading Ethan's mum that he's just a troublemaker. Ethan ran, and he came last year, when he was thirteen. I came about three months after Jimmy. My parents died when I was just two, and my auntie took me in. She got really ill in the winter of 1981. Never recovered and died soon after. I had no one to go to. Tom found me and brought me in and I've been here since."

Molly was stunned into silence.

"What about you. What happened to you?"

"My mum and dad got a divorce years ago, when I was twelve," she lied. Well, it was a partial truth. She could hardly go around saying her mum had died and she was running away from her mum, could she? "When my dad got custody, he cut me off of all contact with my mum. He got a new girlfriend, and finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran, back to the house we used to live in. It turned out that mum didn't live there and they didn't get the locks changed. I was under arrest for a few hours until mum sorted everything. She took me to her flat, but ten minutes later her boss was there, demanding her back, that she take me back to my dad's. She told him that she would if she could. I realised that I had to get out of her life then. I was just an inconvenience to her. She was in love with her boss, and she'd forgotten me."

"Molly, I'm sorry," Ella said.

She shook her head. "I'm happier here. I don't have to deal with her bastard of a boss."

They sat in silence for several minutes, Molly tapping on her sketchbook. "I think I'm going to go to bed," she said finally.

"Okay. I'll go ahead and turn out the lights," Ella responded, marking her book. She stood and flipped the light, plunging the room into blackness. Molly closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

_She was driving through London, but it was different. It was future London. But it wasn't 2011. That much was obvious by her mother driving the car. The Lexus. She had missed the Lexus. She grinned. This was Before Mum. These were good times. _

_Molly looked down. She was wearing a dark dress, something that looked like what she would have worn when she was ten. Her mum had a look of sadness on her face._

"_Where are we going, Mum?" she asked._

"_Why are you asking that, Molls? You know where we're going. My friend, remember, she was in the car accident."_

"_Emily, right?"_

_Alex nodded. "Her and her kids and her brother."_

"_A lorry hit them," Molly stated. _

_Alex bit her lip. Not noticing this, Molly continued as the thoughts came back to her._

"_The boy, I used to play with him. He wasn't killed instantly like the other three. He stayed in hospital for three days before he finally gave in. It was Emily and Luigi and Kate and..._

Molly sat straight up in bed, eyes wide. "Emily and Luigi and Kate and _Tom Dellucci."_

Tom was right. They had known each other forever. Except, Tom had died when she was ten. They had ended up in the afterlife together.

~(*)~

Alex sat in her flat, staring at the blank television. For the first time in days, she wasn't pissed. Molly was as much as dead to her before she showed up randomly the week before. If Molly was dead now, was it much different?

_Yes,_ Alex confirmed instantly. _Because she's __dead.__ She's not with Evan, she's not hiding from me. She's dead, and I won't ever be able to see her again. _

There was a knock on her door. She knew the knock. It was Gene. He had such a distinctive knock that she knew it immediately, every time he came to her door. Alex stood and moved over to the door, opening it.

Gene stood in the doorway, holding two wine glasses and a bottle. "I thought you'd want a drink."

"I could use one."

"I noticed that you weren't down getting pissed today."

"I was going to drink in the flat, and then realised I had used up all my booze last week."

Gene gave her a face of mock horror. "And you didn't restock?"

"Shut it."

He just gave her a small grin and moved to the sofa, setting the glasses on the table and opening the wine. He poured her a glass, straight to the top, offering it to her, careful to avoid spilling any on the floor. Alex took it gratefully.

"I wanted to talk to you about returning to work," he said seriously.

Alex sighed. "I know I need to go back."

"I'm not trying to make light of your situation Bolls. I know she's your daughter. I know she's important to you. But we don't even know that she's dead for sure. She very well could be alive and hiding."

"And that's what kills me," Alex whispered. "She ran because of you, Gene. She thought I wanted you over her. And I can't even correct her, reassure her that I still do want her in my life. Because she's gone," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Gene pulled her into his arms. "Don't cry Bolls. Look, I've already got a comforting arm around you. You don't want me to go further, do you?"

Alex laughed and hiccupped. "Can't have that. What would CID do if they found out?"

"Exactly. We'll find her Bolls. I know I've said it before, but I mean it. We _will _find her. We have all of London looking for her now."

"Thanks Gene," she murmured gratefully, putting her head against his chest.

Gene was startled. He wasn't used to being this close to her. Her comfort level with him was astounding. Unsure of what to do, he started stroking her hair.

Soon enough, her breathing changed and slowed. Her head dropped down and the hand on his chest slipped almost dangerously low.

"Christ Bolls," he muttered, imagining if she woke up and her hand was on his meat and two veg.

Slowly, not wanting to wake her, he stood up and laid her down on the couch. He threw a blanket over her and picked up the wine glasses. He turned out the lights and left the flat quietly, walking downstairs to Luigi's to drop off the glasses. As he walked out of the trattoria he looked up at the ceiling, imagining the woman upstairs, lost in despair.

As he unlocked his car, he made a promise to himself. If he ever found Molly Drake, she was going to get a long lecture from him. A very long lecture. One that she'd remember for the rest of her life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the break in posting, but for the past few weeks, I've been in London! Amazing country, England is. Disappointed to be back in the middle of America, where tornado watches are the norm! But London was amazing!**

**Guess who met KEELEY HAWES? I did :) And no, i did not bring duct tape or chloroform lol. I also saw her husband, who I have to admit is decent looking in the flesh. (The word flesh creeps me out thanks to doctor who...) But yeah. So here's chap 8!**

**Chapter 8**

Molly sat on the couch, staring out the window. For once, she was not drawing. No, she was thinking, thinking about what was going to happen that night.

She'd see her mum. Molly put her head against her knees. She didn't want to see her mum. It had been hard to run when she was at work, but it was going to be even harder to run in front of her.

Taking a deep breath in, she calmed herself and imagined a layer of ice over her heart. She would freeze it, so tonight, her mum couldn't get to her. Molly sat this way for several minutes, building her ice wall inch by inch, until it was a foot in diameter. But it didn't feel good enough. Ice was still too fragile. She closed her eyes again, this time imagining a steel cover over the ice. As soon as she padlocked it in her mind, she felt rage and fury rush through her veins. Molly grinned. This was what was going to protect her tonight.

"You okay, Molly?" Ethan said suddenly from behind her. Molly turned, looking into his angry and storming grey eyes, knowing hers would reflect in light blue.

"Yeah. Just steeling myself for tonight."

"I can't believe Tom's making you face your mum. He never made me face mine. From what Jimmy told me, this is a first."

"Luigi threatened him. He threatened to stop everything."

A look of horrified realisation passed over his face. "Why?"

Molly shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe Mum begged him to."

"She better not have done. If Luigi only threatened Tom because of a bird..."

"You haven't seen how scary she can get," Molly countered. "When I was in the interview room, she didn't recognise me, and for a moment, I thought she was going to throw me across the room."

"So that's where you get it from," he murmured.

"What?"

"Just a moment ago, when you turned round, I almost ran out of the room. You looked so pissed off I was almost afraid to go near you."

Molly smiled. "I'm not angry at anyone in this house, Ethan. Besides, I draw out my feelings."

"Is that why you always draw during dinner?"

She nodded. "And I will be tonight as well. Tom asked me to get a group sketch done."

Ethan grinned. "Tom's brill, isn't he?"

"I most certainly am," came Tom's voice from the doorway. Ethan turned beet red before Tom grinned. "Out twerp. Molly and I need to have grown up discussions."

"I'm fourteen," he said flatly.

"And still will never be as grown up as us," Tom replied, smirking.

Ethan huffed. "Fine. But you owe me your dessert tonight," he mumbled, walking out of the room.

Tom closed the door behind him and grinned at her. "Hey Molls, how are you doing?"

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

His grin faded. "I...I thought you liked it...It just seemed..."

Molly shook her head. "Sorry Tom. I was rude. It's just my...dad would always call me that after him and mum broke up. I hated him so much and he made me hate the name."

_Plus, after figuring out who you really are last night, this whole relationship thing has gotten a bit awkward. _

"I understand," he said. "Parents can ruin everything we love about our lives."

"What about your mum? Did she ruin yours?"

Tom laughed. "No. She didn't. But with Luigi as my uncle, he tries to act like my father."

"He's seemed pretty lenient to me."

"Until he gets going on something. 'Tom, you must do this or I will be angry. If you do not do this, I disown you.'"

"Dad wasn't like that. He was...overbearing. Never left me alone after mum left."

"I remember when we moved here Mum was like that."

"How old were you?"

"Eleven."

Molly's heart almost stopped beating for a moment. He believed he had moved to London when he died in 2005.

"It was quite weird the first few months. It seemed like I knew the place, but from a different time. Then Mum died and I just ignored the weird feeling."

"What happened to her?"

"No one's entirely sure. They found her purse and her blood outside a pub one night. The cops investigating said that the owner, a black man who spoke with a fake Jamaican accent, had told them that she passed through. That was all he said."

Molly frowned. "Weird."

"Extremely." Tom glanced down at his watch. "Shit. C'mon Felicità, we've got to go. We're gonna be late."

Molly didn't move. "What did you call me?"

"Your new nickname. Felicità. It means happiness. The emotion I saw in your eyes last night for the first time ever. Unlike the preoccupazione e la rabbia, the worry and the anger I see all the time." He moved over to her, wrapping her in a hug. "Don't worry, Felicità. You won't have to do anything you don't want to do."

_If only I could be that sure, _she thought. _Maybe then tonight would be easier._

_~(*)~_

"Lunchtime!" Gene called gratefully. He wouldn't admit it, but it had been hell in CID since Alex had taken leave. He didn't blame her, but he couldn't even pretend to understand what Alex was feeling. He hoped she would come down tonight. It was the end of a shit week and he needed someone to get pissed with.

Gene pulled on his coat before exiting CID. It was getting close to November and he could really feel the bite of cold in the air. As he stepped out, his breath fogged in front of his face. Great. It was going to get freezing cold any day now.

Gene made his way over to Luigi's, noting the lights on in Alex's flat. She must not be coming down then. He sighed, considering going up and drinking with her. Shaking his head, he walked down the stairs to the trattoria. He didn't really want to listen to her witter on about her daughter.

As he entered he noted immediately how crowded it seemed. Besides the normal Friday night guests, there was a large group of kids. They were a ragged bunch, the oldest appearing about twenty. Two pairs seemed to be related. The other three didn't appear to be, but he couldn't see the face of one of the girls. Her back was turned to the copper's tables.

Gene sat at the CID table and Luigi approached him. "Who're they?" he asked rudely. "I've seen the boy come get food from you before."

"That's my nephew, _Signore _Hunt," Luigi replied. "The oldest is his sister and the rest are his friends."

Gene nodded.

"Where is the lovely _Signorina_ tonight?"

"Getting pissed upstairs, probably."

"This is not good. She cannot drink on her own. Go get her."

"If she doesn't want to come down..."

"_Signore Hunt,"_ Luigi said, silencing him. "Go to her." He pointed to the girl with the black hair.

"Is that...?"

"_Sí, signore. _Go to her."

Gene jumped up like he had been shocked in the arse and ran upstairs. He hustled down the hallway to her door and pounded on it.

"BOLLY!" he roared. "OPEN UP!"

He continued to pound on the door until it finally opened, revealing a tired looking Alex huddled in her dressing gown.

"What do you want, Gene?"

"Molly...is downstairs," he panted, out of breath from running.

Her eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"Downstairs. In Luigi's, with a bunch of kids."

Her mouth moved wordlessly for a moment as she stared at him.

"What are you waiting for? Get your bloody knickers on woman! Your daughter is downstairs and all you can do is stare?"

Alex jumped into action, rushing to her room. Gene kept his eye on his watch. Less than three minutes later, Alex jumped out of her room, her hair and makeup done and clothes on.

"How come it bloody takes you an hour in the mornings then?" Gene muttered to himself.

She nearly knocked him off his feet as she barrelled past him. By the time he recovered, she was almost to the stairs.

Gene followed her, at a slightly slower pace. By the time he was downstairs, Alex was almost out the door.

"Molly, please listen!" she cried.

He heard her shout a reply, but could not make out the words. Alex kept running, and Gene followed her, trying his best to catch up with her, but she was moving too fast. Finally, as he turned a corner, panting for breath and getting convinced he was too old to be doing this, he caught up with Alex, who was staring down the street as though she'd lost the world.

"She didn't even give me a chance to explain," Alex murmured.

"Bolls," he said quietly.

Alex shook her head. "I don't know where they went. She's alive, but she's hiding, and I'm not going to find her."

Gene grabbed her hand and started pulling her back toward Luigi's.

"We're going to find her Bolly. I'll make sure that we do."

She said nothing, staring down at the ground and holding back tears.

He took her up to her flat and led her to the couch, pouring her a glass of wine.

"Do you..."

"Just go Gene."

"Bolls..."

"Go."

With the utterance of that single syllable, Gene felt that he must leave the room. If he hadn't, it would have just been rude.

Gene walked downstairs, straight to Luigi, who looked disappointed.

"_Signore..."_

"Where does your nephew live, Luigi?"

"_Signore _Hunt, I cannot just..."

"_Where,_ Luigi?" he growled, knowing using an insult would ruin the effect he was trying to give.

Luigi still hesitated and Gene sighed. "I'm not going to go in all guns blazing, I promise. Your nephew and his friends won't be disturbed."

Luigi sighed in obviously relief. "You do not tell him you found out from me," he said.

Gene just nodded.

Luigi gave Gene the address and he wrote it down on a napkin, putting it in his pocket. Tomorrow he was going to stake out that house. And by God, he was going to make Molly return to Alex.

~(*)~

Alex sat on the couch for hours, the glass of wine still as full as when Gene left. She knew that Molly was alive now, but Molly wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

It was all her fault. She had been a bad Mum. If she had been better, if she hadn't gone into work, Molly wouldn't have run. They would be happily doing something together at this very moment.

Alex sighed. It didn't matter. Molly was gone, as lost to her as she had been when she was in 2011.

A single tear slid down her cheek. The fight for Molly was over.

~(*)~

Molly sat on her bench in Hyde Park, not drawing for the first time in ages. She was too wrapped up in the night before. She had been _horrible_ to her mother. Half of her was hoping that Alex would follow her home and use some form of authority on her, but there was nothing. Alex had even followed them out of the trattoria after Molly had screamed 'Fuck you!' at her, but stopped chasing them on the way.

She had gone straight upstairs without a word to anyone, not even Tom. The room had stayed empty for several hours until there was a knock at her door.

"_Ira?"Tom's voice said as he entered the room and sat next to her on the bed, not touching her._

"_Ira?" she asked immediately._

"_It's my new name for you."_

"_What happened to Felicitá?"_

"_You fight so hard to keep out the happiness it seems better to call you Ira for now."_

"_What does that mean?"_

"_Anger, rage, words along that line. Why are you so full of anger? She wanted you to come back."_

_Molly shook her head. "She wants Gene more."_

"_How can you keep saying that, Ira? Are you blind? She was begging you!"_

"_It's only because she thought I was dead."_

_Tom muttered something in Italian, but didn't translate. From his tone, Molly figured it would be better if she didn't ask. _

"_You're blind, Ira. Think it through. Figure it out."_

With that he had left the room, the door almost slamming behind him. She had left as soon as she woke up this morning. She had known it was too early for any of them to be getting up and she rejoiced in the sunrise.

Molly deepened her thoughts. Was what Tom said true? Was she really just being stubborn? Could her mother really want her back? Even after all she had done? Maybe she should go back, just to talk, to apologise for last night.

"You don't really see teenagers in the park at this time in the morning," said a deep growling voice next to her.

Molly turned, startled and her lip curled into a sneer as she saw the man sitting next to her. It was her mum's boss.

"What do you want?" she asked rudely.

"Just to talk," he said.

"About what?" She grabbed a fag and lit up, not offering him one.

"About your mum." She noted how he said this with a certain sadness in his voice, the sound of someone suffering.

"What about her?"

"She wants you to come back."

Molly almost scoffed. "Yeah, right. What she wants is me out of her life so you and her can be a happy couple."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" he asked loudly.

"I saw how you two were in the office, and I heard what you said about returning me to Dad's. I heard her reply as well."

"What, about not casting you off like a pair of shoes? I'd be pretty thankful for that, to be honest."

"You didn't get the undertone? She implied that she wanted me gone as well. All I'm doing is giving her what she wants."

Gene stared at her with an open mouth. "You honestly think that? Good God, and I thought you might be smart because you two are bloody related!"

"What are you talking about?"

"She doesn't want me. She wants you. For the last week, I've been up in Luigi's, listening to her sob over you, get pissed over you. I've carried her upstairs and put her to bed a few nights, like a child. All because she's so distraught over you. And I for the life of me can't figure out why, since you seem like such a spoilt brat..."

"Shut up," she said.

"No. You listen to me. You're tearing Alex apart. You go back to her. Make up, cry and hug, whatever it is that birds do. I need Drake back on my team, and you didn't hear me say that."

Molly just stared at him evenly. She still didn't like this man, but he went up slightly in her estimation.

"I'll give you a tenner," he said quickly.

"Twenty and I'll go. Can't promise anything though."

Gene glared at her. "Forty and make up with her."

Molly smirked. "Deal."

Gene gave her the money and she pocketed it before standing up.

"By the way, Mr. Hunt. Tom and I had this discussion last night and I was going to see her anyway, but thanks for the extra cash!"

She walked away smirking, listening to Gene's angry growl behind her.

**to be continued**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello, readers! As it's the Geniverse's birthday (6/6/20(11)) I thought I'd update ;) **

**Chapter 9**

Molly walked back to the house, letting the rare sun warm her face. Every step she took away from the park added to the nervousness that was developing inside her. She had told herself that she was going to just go back to grab her bag, but now she needed to work up the confidence to go to her mum's flat.

Molly let herself into the house quietly. The rest of the house would be asleep, except maybe Kate. She was an early bird, but the rest of the group preferred the night. As Molly made her way into the kitchen, she realised that she was still the only one moving in the house. She glanced at the clock. Kate might be gone by now, actually. She hadn't realised she had spent so long in the park.

"What are you looking at?" said a voice behind her, startling her.

"God dammit Tom!" she hissed. "Do you just _stalk _me so you can scare me?"

Tom grinned. "It's fun to see you jump, but no I don't stalk you. You're just too lost in your thoughts to notice your surroundings."

Molly just huffed irritatedly.

"Do you want some toast?"

Molly shook her head. Right now her stomach couldn't handle food, no matter what it was. Tom set to work on making his own toast, and her stomach turned even more as she saw him putting Marmite on the slices of bread. She had never been a fan of the stuff.

"So what were you thinking about?" he asked, taking a huge bite out of the slice of toast.

"I went to the park this morning."

Tom frowned. "How long have you been up?"

"Since about five."

"You beat Kate! Congratulations!"

Molly smiled and then turned serious once more. "I got apprehended by Hunt. He pretty much begged me to go see my mother." She decided to leave out the details of the money until much, much later. In fact, it was probably best just to forget about the forty quid altogether.

"He said the exact same thing I did last night, didn't he?"

Molly nodded. "But see, there's a difference. Last night, I hadn't come to a decision like I have today."

Tom looked at her intently. "What did you decide?"

"I need to see her," Molly whispered. "But I can't. I can't face her now."

Tom pulled her over to him, wrapping his arms around her and placing a gentle kiss against her cheek.

"You can do it, Ira. It's just confidence. _Fiducia._"

"I've got none now."

"What if I go with you?" he offered. "Would that help?"

Molly considered it. "It might," she said softly.

"Then it's settled. I'll go with you. Shall we go?"

Molly looked at the clock. "Tonight. By the time we get there, she'll be at work."

Tom nodded. "Tonight it is. In the meantime, what do you suggest we do?"

Molly looked up at the ceiling to where her satchel was.

"Something that doesn't involve drawing like a loon."

"You take all the fun out of things, Tom," she said teasingly.

"I've an idea. Why don't we go to Holland Park?"

"That's a half hour walk from here," she protested weakly.

"So? You've been to Hyde Park and back this morning."

"Yeah, and that's almost an hour each way!"

"So what'll another half hour do? Just get some proper walking shoes on instead of those bloody Converse!"

"Oi! Don't you dare say anything against these shoes!"

Tom gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh great. Now we get to hear how wonderful they are," he said teasingly.

"They are wonderful. Just because _you_ can't understand the brilliance of shoes doesn't mean that no one else can."

"Ooh, touchy," he smiled. Molly playfully punched him on the arm.

"Ugh. Can't you guys at least wait until normal people have eaten breakfast?" Jimmy said, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Sorry, mate," Tom said, laughingly. "We're just off anyway. Molly's grabbing her bag and we're going to Holland Park." He pretended not to notice Molly glaring at him.

"Good," Jimmy said. "It'd be better than walking into a room and finding you two snogging again. Get it out of your systems at the park."

"No guarantees there, sunshine." He turned back to Molly.

"You aren't taking your bag?"

"I'm not going."

Tom just grinned. "Don't make me force you."

"And how would you do that?"

Molly instantly regretted asking the question. Tom took two steps forward and then picked her up in a fireman's lift.

"Put me down!" she shrieked.

"I will on one condition."

"I think I can guess what that is," she grumbled.

"If I put you down, you get your bag and meet me in this spot in three minutes. Or we just go now."

"Let me get my bag," she said grumpily.

He set her down on the ground and she went up to grab her bag. Molly was careful to be quiet around the still sleeping Ella, but as she was going down the stairs, decided to jump from the fourth step up. She landed in front of Tom with a big _THUD _and grinned.

"I thought we were going to the park," she said smoothly.

Tom laughed and followed her out of the door. "Race you there," he said, starting to run.

"Oh you bastard!" she called.

Five minutes later, they both stopped, panting for breath. "Okay," Tom said. "Bad idea."

"You think?" she panted back.

"Well, who got to the sign first?" he asked.

"Me," Molly said. "Then you called out, begging me to stop."

"Lies," he said.

"Nope," she replied, taking off her bag and putting on his shoulders. "Catch me if you can!"

With that, Molly took off running, leaving him in the dust behind her, trying to control her hysterical laughter.

~(*)~

Alex Drake rolled over in bed to look at the time. She sighed. It was time for her to go back to work. She had wallowed enough. As much as she loved her daughter, as much as she wanted Molly back, she needed to try and focus on something else. She needed to throw herself into work once again.

Alex got out of bed and moved over to the shower, turning the tap as far as it would go. Even then, the water was still only lukewarm and it merely trickled over her body. Maybe she did need to find a new place to live. If, no, _when _Molly came back, they couldn't live in a one bedroom flat. They'd need somewhere bigger.

Alex stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself. She'd talk to the letting agent this afternoon. Gene would let her out early, she was confident. After all, it was only her first day back. They wouldn't task her too much.

As she dried her hair, Alex stared at it in the mirror. It really was time to get rid of the perm. She vaguely remembered a time when it was straight and all she had to do with it was throw it into a ponytail. Maybe she wouldn't wear a ponytail now in the eighties, but she could get her straight hair back. Alex measured where the perm ended in her hair. If she let it grow out a few more weeks, natural hair should hit her ears and she could get it chopped there.

Alex absentmindedly started playing with the curl that served as fringe. _A quiff, _she thought.

Alex smiled. Perfect. She'd ring the hairdresser as well, and get this abomination off her head as soon as possible.

She did her makeup, the greyish purple eyeshadow a far cry from the electric blue that she once used. Her whole appearance here had changed. Batwing tops and kitten bows had transformed into long blouses and shoulder pads. She wore her white jacket interchangeably with a suit jacket. Today she pulled out a grey polo neck jumper with red lines crossing on it. It was never one of her favourites, but it was there. She paired this with black trousers and a red belt. Grabbing her suit jacket, she suddenly felt ready to face the world once more.

Alex walked down the stairs, feeling different than she had ever since Molly had crashed into her world and disappeared once more. Today was going to be a good day, she could feel it.

However, that feeling disappeared as soon as she entered CID. It was a flurry of activity; even Ray was busy. She ignored her desk, going straight to Gene's office. He looked up as she entered.

"Bloody Hell. What brought you in?"

"Missed it," she shrugged.

"Heard from Molly?"

Alex shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. A look of fury flashed across Gene's face before he spoke again.

"Suppose you want to know what's going on?"

"Well, that would be helpful, yes."

"We broke up a guns ring yesterday. Currently, we're signing out all the bloody shooters we got. Some of them have been screwed up as well."

"How do you mean?"

"Firing pin blocks and hammer blocks have been taken out. They can shoot if you drop them. Knowing this lot, I had Bammo and Terry take all the bullets out last night."

Alex nodded. "So what do I need to do?"

"Catch up on everything you've missed. There's a stack of files on your desk."

Alex sighed inwardly and nodded. She hated paperwork so much. Still, something told her it'd be much worse in the future. Inwardly steeling herself, she decided to go make a cup of tea before sitting down to the mundane chore. Alex set her suit jacket on her chair and walked to the kitchen, stopping by Poirot's desk. A gun lay on the floor, half hidden by a rubbish bin and the desk. She picked it up and studied it. Realising it wasn't police issue, she set it on his desk for him to clear away into evidence.

Alex walked into the tiny kitchen and started to prepare tea. Shaz walked in behind her. "It's good to see you back, Ma'am."

"I'm glad to be back, Shaz, save for all this paperwork."

Shaz smiled. "I could have made your tea."

"Oh, no. I'd rather be doing this at the moment. It's paperwork and CID or making tea and talking to you."

"Choice is obvious," Shaz said with a grin. Alex laughed.

"It is!"

"GRANGER!" Gene's voice yelled suddenly.

"I better go, Ma'am," she said.

Alex nodded. "Good luck."

Shaz grinned and rolled her eyes.

Alex poured the hot water into her mug and threw a teabag in, letting it steep. She'd get to work when she was good and well ready.

Finally, the milk and sugar was added and she couldn't put things off any longer. Sighing to herself, she stepped out of the kitchen, turning to go to her desk.

A loud _BANG _sounded through the office. There was a pain in her abdomen and she heard the shattering of her mug on the ground. Then there was only the sound of silence as she felt herself falling.

~(*)~

Molly and Tom sat in Holland Park, backs against one of the trees.

"You drawing again?" he asked her lazily, his eyes shut.

"Yeah," Molly said, tracing a squirrel that was sitting in front of her. "Is that a shock?"

"Nah. What time is it?"

"Ten thirty."

"That early? I could take a nap!"

"You could always take a nap, Tom Dellucci."

Tom shrugged and nodded. "True."

"I've got an idea. Why don't we go for a walk down to the tennis courts?"

"Cause there's nothing more exciting than watching people grunt as they hit a ball," Tom replied.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"Nah. That sounds fine, Molly. Let's go."

He was on his feet in an instant, offering her his hand. Molly took it and stood, brushing herself off before taking his hand again.

Slowly, they walked down to the tennis courts. Tom held his hand up over his eyes to block the unusual sunshine.

"Wait a second," he muttered. "What's Jimmy...Shit. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong."

As soon as Tom stopped speaking, Jimmy was there, out of breath and panting.

"What's going on, Jimmy?"

"Molly," he gasped.

"What?" she asked.

"Your mum..."

Molly felt her stomach drop.

"Shot at work..."

A lump made its way into her throat.

"She's...in surgery...at St. Bart's," he continued. "Luigi said he heard someone say it didn't look good," he finished apologetically.

The world was silent. Her world may have frozen when she was twelve, but now it had just crashed. She was losing her mum again, and this time, there would be no getting her back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Gene sat angrily at his desk. He had sent Shaz out to get files for him and was now furiously stewing over the fact that Molly hadn't gone to see her mother. She'd stolen _forty quid_ from him. It was obvious this child wasn't as good as Alex thought she was.

Suddenly, a gun went off in the office. Gene leapt from his seat and ran out of his office looking for the source. An astonished Poirot held a smoking gun in his hands, but Gene hardly noticed this. Alex was on the ground, blood pouring from a wound in her stomach, eyes barely open.

"Alex," he murmured, moving over to her. Gene put his hand over hers, applying pressure on the wound. He looked up savagely at CID.

"Don't just stand there! Terry! Call for an ambulance!" he yelled, noting Terry was closest to a phone. "Ray, grab a tea towel from the kitchen and bring it to me. And you," he said glaring at Poirot with murder in his eyes. "You sit at your desk and don't move an inch. And don't you dare touch that bloody gun again."

CID leapt into action and Gene looked at Alex. "Stay with me, Bolly," he ordered.

"Guv?" she whispered weakly.

"That's right, Alex. You fight. Hang on. Do you understand?"

"Can't see," she mumbled.

"That's because your eyes are shut, you daft mare," he replied.

"Hurts," she whimpered as she fell into unconsciousness.

"Alex?" he called to her, trying to bring her back. "C'mon, Alex! Fight!"

There was no response. "Shit," he muttered as Ray approached with a stack of tea towels.

"Give it," he snapped. Gene pressed the towel against her side, trying not to be alarmed by the amount of blood that was flowing out of her side. Already it was tingeing the second one pink, and all of them had been folded to provide more layers. Maybe it was just his imagination, but as each layer got progressively more scarlet, Alex seemed to grow paler. CID sat in complete silence, all unknowing of what to do.

"Terry! Where's the bloody ambulance?"

"The crew's coming up the stairs now, Guv."

Suddenly the doors burst open as the crew of an ambulance rushed in, a trolley being pushed in front of one, all the others equipped with overfull bags. Gene pretended not to notice as the paramedic paled as he knelt next to Alex.

"Gunshot to the lower left quadrant of the trunk," he announced to the rest of the men. Another one approached Alex with the first and they lifted her on the trolley, wheeling her out even as they started to administer first aid.

"Are you okay, sir?" asked the third man with the group.

"What? Yeah. It's all hers. Where's she going?"

"St. Bart's. It's the closest."

"Good. I'm coming."

"Sir, we don't normally take passengers..."

"I'm not a passenger, I'm her bloody DCI."

Knowing that the battle was already lost, the paramedic merely nodded and gestured out the door.

"Raymondo. You're in charge. Terry, Bammo and Poirot," he said, spitting out the last name. "You three wait here until I get back. You don't go to lunch, you don't go home until I talk to you. I hope to God for your sakes, she comes out of surgery quickly and just peachy."

With that, Gene turned on his heel and marched out the door to the waiting ambulance.

~(*)~

"Molly! Deep breaths!" Tom commanded.

Molly looked at him frantically. "I have to get to St. Bart's! Now!"

It was the only thought on her mind at the moment. She was pushing out all others, all more negative, knowing that they would flood her later.

"It's forever away, Tom. I can't walk there! It's nearly a two hour walk!"

"Molly," he said seriously. "_Calm down._ There's a tube station about ten minutes away. We'll walk there and take it to the stop by St. Bart's."

Molly nodded.

"Jimmy, tell Kate and the others we may not be home until late. If worse comes to worse and we can't get back tonight, we'll either stay at the hospital or at Luigi's."

Jimmy nodded and turned back to the house, walking at a much slower pace than he had just been going.

"C'mon, Molly."

Tom took her hand and they both started to walk. They were almost running, and ran into at least three people, ignoring the dirty looks as they walked away.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, they reached the Holland Park tube station. They flew down the stairs, turning round the corner to the platform just as a train was arriving. Jumping onto the last coach of the train, they found seats easily and sat down.

The only problem now was that there was nothing to distract Molly from her thoughts.

_I'm going to lose Mum again. I was so horrible to her, and now she's going to die again. It's my fault, just like it was three years ago. I can't lose Mum again. Not in this world now too._

Molly closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself down. Suddenly, the conductor's voice came over the tannoy.

"_How much did she take?"_

"_I'm not sure. I'm pretty sure the bottle was full," _Evan's voice replied.

Molly frowned, looking at Tom to see if he had heard it. He seemed not to notice anything out of the ordinary, looking at her worriedly.

"_What about the paracetamol?"_

"_That was hers, but when I nicked some off her the other day, it was only about a quarter of the way full."_

"_Let's get her to the ambulance. Molly? Can you hear me?"_

"Molly?" Tom's voice said quietly. Molly jumped and looked at him.

"What?"

"We're at the stop."

Her worry about her mother renewed, Molly jumped up like she'd been shocked and practically ran out of the coach to the stairs.

Finally, they reached St. Bart's and headed over to the A&E. She immediately saw Gene sitting there, blood covering his white shirt. Molly's stomach sunk as she realised the amount that must have flowed out of her mum to cause that kind of stain.

Molly walked straight over to him. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Gene looked up, the anxiousness evident in his eyes. "She was shot in the stomach. It took them a while to stabilise her, but she's in surgery now."

"I heard it wasn't looking good," she said, praying for Gene to correct her.

"She's lost a lot of blood," he said quietly.

Molly sighed fearfully and sat next to him, motioning to Tom to sit next to her. Whatever happened next, they would all hear about it together, and it would decide whether Molly's world could start turning once more.

~(*)~

She had never believed in out of body experiences, but she was having one now. Alex stared at herself on the operating table, stripped naked, a tube coming out of her mouth and a sheet covering her body, except for a small window over her stomach. Music was playing softly in the background and a hushed conversation was going on over her body.

"Clipped the aorta," said one of the surgeons. "No wonder she's lost so much blood."

"Clamp," said the other surgeon. A nurse handed it to him, and the surgeon inserted it into the hole made slightly wider by a scalpel.

"What happened to her anyway?" asked a second nurse, who was walking around with a clipboard.

"From what I gather someone in her office was playing with a gun and shot it, not realising there were still bullets in it," said the second surgeon.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed the anaesthesiologist. "And this is our police force?"

"Apparently," said the first. "Gives you a lot of faith in them, doesn't it?"

The group laughed as the music changed. Alex froze as she heard David Bowie's _Ashes to Ashes_ start playing on the radio. Not that song. Anything but _that _song. She had to get out of there, but it was like she was stuck. Something was tethering her to the room.

"SHIT!" one of the surgeons yelled. "Get me the clamp! Now! Faster!"

All of a sudden the feeling of being tethered to the room disappeared as she started floating away from the room. She watched the doctors working frantically as their machines started alarming.

_I'm dying, _she thought suddenly. She was strangely calm with this idea as she floated through the hallways of the hospital. It felt almost like she was swimming and the further she got away from her body, the easier it was to move.

Alex floated to the waiting room of the A&E, stopping for a moment as she realised she knew people in there. Gene was sitting impatiently, his shirt covered in blood and a cup of tea in his hands. Two seats down was a boy of about sixteen with dark hair and eyes that she knew she'd seen in Luigi's. He had his arm around a girl in the middle, one that she recognised immediately.

"Molly," she whispered happily. Molly had come to see her.

Molly had looked up when Alex muttered her name. The boy looked at her. "You okay, Felicitá?"

"How can you call me that now? I'm not happy," she muttered.

"But there will be happiness that comes from this, Molly," he murmured. "Your mum will fight."

"I can't lose her again," she replied, tears forming in her eyes.

The boy pulled her close, kissing her temple. A feeling of jealousy started to work through her. It should be her comforting Molly, not that boy.

Suddenly, something tugged at her around her midriff and she moved towards the operating room. Instead of letting it tug her bodily again, she started floating back. Now however, she was moving freely, instead of forcing her way through the feeling of water. Soon she was back in the operating room, where the doctors and nurses all stood, panic on every face.

"Once more," the second surgeon said. "Clear!" he called before pressing the electrified paddles to her chest.

Pain radiated through her body. Then there was nothing but darkness.

~(*)~

Molly stared at the clock that seemed to be going slower with each passing minute. How long had it been since the last update? Three hours? What was taking so long? Was her mum okay?

Gene shifted nervously next to her. That was one thing that amazed her; how much Gene actually cared. He had seemed like such a brute when she had first met him, but there was a deeper side to this man. Molly was starting to realise that there was some human hidden beneath the copper and that was what her mother had fallen in love with.

Tom was out getting more tea for the small group, so she decided to talk to Gene a little more. "You're really worried about her," she said.

"Course I am," he replied gruffly. "She's my DI."

"There's something more than that though. I have a feeling if that man with the perm was your DI, you would have given CID a bollocking _before_ coming to the hospital instead of waiting until afterwards.

She saw Gene consider this reply, but he said nothing.

"Is there something between you and Mum?"

"Nothing. We went for a date once, but she was convinced that she was leaving the next day. We haven't done anything since."

"If..._when_ she makes it through this, you should ask her out again."

Gene looked at her. "Thought you hated me."

"You seem more human now. When you're not in copper mode."

"Coppers can't be human sometimes."

"Coppers should always be human. It's when they lose that that the public start hating them. Just because you enforce the law doesn't mean you can commit GBH on every suspect you ever interview."

Gene said nothing again. "Your mum thinks like that as well."

"We're very modern thinkers," Molly replied without a trace of irony in her voice.

"I can tell that. You should hear your mum talking about bloody fudge-packers."

"I believe they're called gay, Gene."

"Yeah. Them."

Suddenly a nurse walked into the room, heading for Gene. Both he and Molly stood, and the nurse looked hesitantly at Molly.

"She's Alex's daughter," Gene said flatly. The nurse nodded.

"She's just come out of surgery. Her abdominal aorta was clipped, which was why she lost so much blood. Along with that, the small intestine was perforated. Barring any infections, she should be fine. You can go see her now if you want."

Molly and Gene looked at each other. "Tom," she said.

"You go. I'll talk to Tom when he gets back."

Molly nodded and followed the nurse out of the waiting room.

"Very nice man. Is he your father?"

Molly shook her head. "He's mum's boss. I'm just warming up to him myself."

The nurse merely nodded, continuing to walk along a maze of corridors. "Here we are," she said, stopping. "Don't mind all the tubes, they're all there to help her."

Molly nodded, before entering the room. Her first reaction was relief. Sure, her mum was hooked up to tubes and wires, but it was nothing compared to 2008.

A bag of blood hung from one hook, and two different clear solutions hanging from others, all flowing into an IV. Her heart was being monitored, but that was the extent of the medical equipment. There was no ventilator and the plaster was invisible underneath the hospital gown and blanket.

"I'm so sorry, Mum," she whispered, grabbing her mother's hand. Tears started to fall from her eyes and she let them. She didn't care anymore. "I just want you back," she murmured. "The Molly and Mum show again. I want to steal your files; I want to beg you to make biscuits. They say you're supposed to get better this time. I really hope you do Mum. I haven't been fair, and I don't think killing myself in this world will take me to you again. Please, don't die this time," she ended, whispering.

There was no reply from her mother, still unconscious from the sedatives, and probably lethargic from lack of blood.

The curtain opened. "Time's up, love. I'm sorry," the nurse said. Molly nodded, letting go of her mother's hand.

"I'll be back tomorrow Mum. Every day, just like I used to. She kissed her mother on the cheek and walked out of the room, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders. Her mother would make it this time around. She had to.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello readers! I know I don't say this often enough, but thank you guys SO much for your reviews. They really do mean a lot to me and as corny as it sounds, they will cheer me up on a bad day. So for those of you that take time to review, thank you so those of you who simply read my fics, thank you as well, as I would be nowhere without readers! And to those who fav and add me to alerts, thank you. I always get a thrill of joy when someone adds one of my stories to their favourites. Thank you again. Rant.**

**Chapter 11**

Gene stormed into CID late that night, his anger renewed as soon as he walked through the doors of the police station. He was delighted to see that Terry, Bammo and Poirot had all listened to him and were still sitting in their chairs, lights on and fags lit.

Gene walked to the centre of the room, staring at each man in turn. Finally he spoke.

"Poirot. Give me the gun."

Carefully, as though the gun might explode, Poirot handed the weapon to Gene. Gene opened the clip and emptied the bullets. All were there, save for the one that the surgeons had to pull out of her side.

"Full," he said dangerously. "Completely bloody full. Terry. I told you specifically to check that _every gun _was rid of bullets last night. And I said the _exact same thing_ to you too Bammo. So why's my DI in a hospital bed?"

There was silence for a moment, neither wanting to upset their Guv further, but both almost wanting him to yell. This careful calm was worse than when he nearly threw suspects across the interview room.

"Can...Can I see the gun?" Bammo asked nervously. Gene nodded and handed it to the man. Bammo examined it carefully.

"We didn't see this gun at all last night Guv. We checked all the desks before we left and we didn't see it."

Gene nodded slightly. "Right," he said. "This is still bloody negligent of you both. You both are filling out all of Drake's paperwork for her, and are on strict desk duty for a month. You can go now. Don't expect this to be all though."

The men nodded and left the room thankfully. As soon as they were gone, Gene turned to Poirot.

"Look at what you've done. Instead of ten seconds to check the clip _like any copper should do before __ever__ firing a gun_, you've just put your superior officer through nearly eleven hours of surgery, which she almost didn't make it through." Gene's voice was still carefully calm, but it was difficult. He needed to punch someone. Badly.

"Your miraculously aimed bullet punched a hole in her intestine and clipped her aorta. A few more inches to the left and you would have killed her. All because you _didn't bloody check the clip!_"

"Guv, I..."

"DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK?" Gene roared, delighted to use this rage for even a moment.

Poirot cowered as Gene regained his composure. He shook his head disgustedly.

"You're suspended. Active immediately. Until Drake's back on duty, I don't want to see you in this office. Give me your warrant card."

Looking at the floor, Poirot shuffled over to Gene, pulling a leather wallet out of his pocket and putting it in Gene's palm.

"Oh. And you have to take a firearms retraining course. Honestly, I let you off lightly. Do you know what this could do? Not only could you have killed Alex, but now the rubber heelers may come. And the last thing we need in this office is D&C."

Poirot said nothing, looking at the floor.

"Get out of my sight," Gene spat finally.

Poirot cowered out the door, leaving Gene alone in CID. He grabbed the gun from Bammo's desk and stuffed it in his pocket. They needed to find out where this gun came from, and now, it looked like the only person who knew was unconscious.

~(*)~

_Alex lay still in the hospital bed, tubes and wires seeming to sprout from everywhere on her body. A bandage covered her head, hiding the now partially bald head, shaved to remove the bullet. Molly stared at her, a giant smile on her face. Her mum had made it through the surgery. _

"_Mum," she said excitedly. "The doctor got the bullet out. You're going to be okay! He said if you get plenty of rest and there are no complications, you're going to wake up. You're going to be fine!"_

_But even as she said the words, the lines of her mother's heart rhythm went flat as the view of the room changed. She was no longer in ICU, she was in a different ward. She wasn't the one in the chair, she was in the bed. _

"_Can you hear me Molls?" Evan's voice asked her. "They don't know how you're going to fare after this, Scrap," he told her. "You took so many pills. Right now, they're concerned about kidney and liver failure. It's a waiting game with results, just like it is to see if you're going to come around._

"_I know why you did this, Molly. You think I don't understand anything you're going through, but your Mum went through the same thing when she was a kid. Only..." He paused a moment, clearly dealing with the demons of his past. "I'm not going to pretend that if I didn't deal with Layton on the phone he still would have shot your mother. I didn't think he was going to do it Scrap. I thought I could just phone the police and they'd raid his boat and everything would be fine. But you blame me for taking her off life support. Molls, I had seen the scans. Your mum was brain dead. She wasn't even dreaming. Her consciousness was in another world completely. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do," he said, choking up. "She was like my own child, just like you're almost my child, or grandchild, if you will. And if you die, I'm on my own. Because of me, every single member of the Price lineage is dead."_

_The room changed again. This time she was in a hospital room, clearly from the eighties. A sheet was over the body lying on the bed, a man in black sitting next to the body, his shoulders slumped. As Molly walked forward, the man turned. It was Gene. _

"_The infection," Gene said. "It killed her."_

_Molly started to scream. She'd lost her mum again._

"Molly! Wake up!" Tom's voice commanded her.

Molly's eyes snapped open and she looked frantically around the unfamiliar room. Finally she realised that she was in her mum's flat. It had been late when they got out of the hospital, and they had gone to Luigi's afterwards with Gene, where they were all treated to dinner by the worried owner. By the time they had finished dinner, Molly was falling asleep in the chair, worn out from a day of frantic worrying. Luigi had insisted they stay the night.

"Mum," she said.

"Gene said he'd ring us if there was any news. You okay, Molly? You look really pale and completely freaked out."

"Nightmare," she said simply.

He looked at her, his eyes asking her to explain.

"Mum was...she had an infection. And when I walked in there, she was..."

Molly couldn't finish the sentence. Tom sat on the bed next to her and put his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

"None of that's happened, Molly. Your mum is going to be fine. She'll be sleepy for a few days, but she'll come back and you two will be great together."

"You're such an optimist Tom."

"Sometimes, but sometimes you're cynical," he said kindly.

"I _can't_ lose her again. I've already lost her once."

"Then why did you run from her? If you couldn't lose her, but you'd just been with your dad..."

"It was really, really complicated with the whole 'dad' thing," she said, waggling her fingers. "I couldn't see her at all, ever. It was like she was dead. Dad lives in Canada with his new wife."

"I thought you said he worked for _The Guardian_?"

"He does. There's one in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. I got so used to it, I don't even think of it when I tell people."

Tom nodded. "An ocean away," he said thoughtfully.

"A world," Molly said. "That's what it felt like. No phoning her, no writing, no email..."

"What's email?"

"A kind of post system that travels extremely fast," she said, cursing her slip. "Not very popular though."

Tom merely nodded his head, frowning. "I think I might have heard of that somewhere before."

Molly shrugged. "But when I ran, I could still go back at any time. I could find Mum and apologise. But...if she dies, it'll be exactly like when I was at Dad's."

"She won't, Molly."

Molly relaxed in the warmth of his arms, praying to God he was right.

~(*)~

Amelia Peters sighed as she checked the clock for the fifteenth time that night. It was only three AM. She still had four hours to go, and the next three and a half would drag, unless they had to admit someone. As much as she hated to work through all the paperwork of an admit, tonight had been so slow that she was praying for one. There were only three patients in the ward, all of them silent as the grave.

Amelia smirked as she made this comparison. It may not be appropriate, but she had always been one for dark humour. Someone had figured out the song _Another One Bites the Dust_ had the same amount of beats per minute that you were supposed to pump a chest in CPR. Now she would sing it to keep the rhythm, the perfect 100 beats per minute. It was small things like that that got her through the long nights on the ward.

She checked the clock again. 0315. Amelia sighed. She might as well start taking vitals now. They were supposed to be started at four, but there was no harm in going a few minutes early, was there?

She looked at all of her patients, their curtains opened, exposing them to her from the desk. Technically, she wasn't supposed to do this, but as none of them were awake at the moment, she saw no harm in keeping the curtain open so she could keep an eye on them.

Amelia walked to the patient closest to her and looked at her chart. "Alex Drake," she murmured. "Gunshot wound to the abdomen, perforated small intestine, grazed abdominal aorta."

"No wonder you're so pale, honey," she said to the unconscious woman. "You get hit in any artery and you start bleeding out like mad. Honestly, you're bloody lucky to be alive. You must have a very, very good friend upstairs." There was no response from the woman, but she didn't care. Plants didn't respond either, but talking to them was supposed to help them grow, wasn't it?

Amelia grabbed the sphygmomanometer from the wall and wrapped it around Alex Drake's arm. She then took her stethoscope and pressed it to the inside of the woman's elbow and pumped up the cuff. Slowly she let out the air, noting when the pumping sounds started and disappeared.

"Ninety-two over fifty-four. Bit low, dearie, but not too surprising to be honest. Once you get some more blood in you, it should go up."

Amelia grabbed Alex's wrist, checking her pulse for half a minute and then the number of times she inhaled. She noted with growing concern how the woman's wrist felt cold and clammy and that the pulse was weak and thready. By the end of the minute in which she took the pulse and respirations in, she knew she had to call a doctor.

Amelia ran to the med room and grabbed a litre bag of normal saline, hooking it up to Alex's drip and increasing the drip flow to 100 millilitres a minute. Only then did she ring a doctor.

Less than five minutes later, doctors were taking the woman out of the room, wheeling her back to surgery. She had been receiving blood all night. If she was going into shock now, she must still have bleeding somewhere in her stomach.

The room fell into silence as the doctors got further down the hallway. Finishing her vitals, she recorded them and then moved to Alex's vacated bed, stripping the sheets. Maybe the rest of the night wouldn't be as slow as she thought.

* * *

><p>AN: What happens in the final bit of this chapter is that Alex goes into shock. She has too little blood flow and so her body's cells cannot meet their metabolic needs. This means that they may not be getting enough oxygen, or a mix of other nutrients for the body. The nurse administers the normal saline at such a quick rate to increase Alex's blood flow, thus pulling her out of the state of shock, at least for the moment. This is known as a bolus.


	12. Chapter 12

**First off, I'd like to thank those that read and review. It means so much to see the notifications in my inbox! I know I don't thank you individually, because I'm amazingly awkward and have no idea how to reply, but I do appreciate them.**

**On an interesting side note, I had a review last time that asked me not to kill Alex, even though it is my favourite thing to do. I found this humorous and told my mate Rolephant, who then decided to tally all of the fics that Alex dies in. Surprisingly, she only ends up in about 1/3 of my fics! (The tally was 11 dead to 20 alive) As far as being injured (or having mental issues) we took out three fics which didn't really fit into a category and were left with 10 where she's fine and 18 injured or killed. Which I then cheered at, so I don't know what that says about me... **

**Anyway, onto chap 12!  
><strong>

**Chapter 12**

Cold. She was cold. It felt like she was covered in ice. No. No, cold was the wrong word. She was hot. Too hot. She was almost on fire now, burning hot.

She realised that there was a blanket on her and she kicked it off, desperate to escape the scorching fire she felt was on her body.

Suddenly there was a voice next to her, singing in her ear.

_Temperature's rising. Fever is high. Can't see no future. Can't see no sky._

She knew the lyrics, but from where? Were they telling her what was going on? Did she have a fever? She didn't understand what was going on. Where were people? Why wasn't anyone telling her anything?

Suddenly her teeth started chattering. How was she this cold so soon? Something was wrong with her, she could feel it. Her side ached badly.

"_Your fever's breaking," _said a girl's voice that she recognised. It sounded far away, like it was coming from a different room. _"You can fight this Mum. You're strong enough. You're almost through it."_

Mum? Only one person had ever called her that. She thought for a while until the name came back to her.

"Mmmo...Mmmolls," she stuttered.

"_She's awake!" _Molly said excitedly. _"Tom, she said my name!"_

"C-c-cold," she managed to say.

"_You kicked off your sheets earlier, that's why."_

She felt the sheet reach back up to her shoulders again, but no warmth was gained. Her legs were shaking from the cold and she prayed to have the heat come back, to envelope her in the fire once more.

After what seemed an eternity, her body switching between raging heat and freezing cold, another voice entered the room. It seemed closer than before, when Molly was speaking.

"_How's she doing?"_

"_She was awake earlier, didn't open her eyes, but managed to say my name and that she was cold."_

"_Good job, Bolls," _the voice said. She realised that she knew that voice too. Slowly the name came back to her.

"Ge...n...nn...ne."

"Keep fighting, Bolly," he said, sounding like he was in the same room with her now, instead of down the hallway.

She heard a new pair of shoes enter the room, and a straw was placed to her lips. She gratefully sucked down the water. She didn't realise how thirsty she was.

"She's been awake," Molly said. "She said my name and Gene's."

"Good," said a woman's voice. "Alex?"

Alex made a hissing noise in acknowledgement.

"Alex, I'm Sophie. I'm your nurse. You're in a hospital," explained the woman's voice slowly and kindly.

"Hos...hosp'tal?"

"Poirot shot you," said Gene's voice angrily.

"The bullet perforated the small intestine and you got a bit of an infection," the nurse said kindly. "Your fever's breaking now."

Alex was getting confused. This was too much for her now. How come she didn't remember any of this?

"You need to get some more rest, Alex. It'll all make more sense when you're more awake."

Alex said nothing, continue to shiver against the cold. Eventually, the heat was less hot, the cold less frigid. Molly was there almost constantly, talking to her. Gene came in and out, something she had finally connected with him going to work. Sometimes, there was a third voice, someone she didn't know, but seemed to know her. Finally, when all three were in the room, she summoned the ability to open her eyes. She was quite comfortable, but she still wasn't quite sure how she had ended up in the hospital.

Alex blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. Gene was sitting on one side of her bed, and Molly on the other, next to a boy she recognised from Luigi's. They seemed to be in a heated discussion about something.

"Sounds like a ponce to me," Gene was saying. "I saw one of those 'Dalek' things and it just looks like a pepper pot." He moved his fingers into air quotes around the word 'Dalek.' "How can a giant pepper pot be his worst enemy?"

"You know the giant eye stem that they have?" the boy asked.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"They shoot you anywhere with that thing, you're dead. And they don't care who they kill. It's almost impossible to defeat them."

"But they're just a giant pepper pot!"

Alex grinned. This was so typically Gene. As the two males continued their heated debate, she looked at Molly, who seemed bored and was drawing in a notebook. Molly had never really gotten into Doctor Who. She had always hated the companions.

"_They're all too wishy-washy!" _she had said. _"Good God, he's a Time Lord! AN ALIEN who could be their twenty times great grandfather. And they're all supposed to be in love with him?"_

After watching a few episodes with the blonde companion and then trying again when the blonde girl left, they had given up on trying to get into the show.

Alex reached towards her, putting her hand on her daughter's arm. Molly started slightly and looked over at the bed.

"Oh my God," she murmured. "Mum!" she shrieked.

Suddenly, Alex was enveloped in a hug she never expected to receive again. The two males had gone silent, Molly's shriek of delight ending any conversation. Finally, Molly let up and Gene gave a small smile.

"Welcome back, Bolly."

The boy said nothing, scratching his head awkwardly.

"What happened?" Alex asked.

"Do you remember being shot?" Gene asked.

Alex shook her head. "I remember walking out of the kitchen with some tea and then nothing until I woke up and was freezing. After that it's a bit hazy until now."

"The bloody great tosser Poirot shot you," Gene said. "There was a gun he found, didn't bother to check it for bullets, and started to play with it. You were in surgery for ten hours, and nearly died once. You made it through and they took you to recovery for the night, but you went into shock. They'd missed something. They found it and brought you back out, and you spent the next day with a tube in your mouth, helping you breathe, before they decided you could do it on your own. By the time the pulled the tube out, your temperature was going up."

Alex was stunned. "How long have I been here?"

"If you count the day of your surgery, this is day five."

A nurse bustled in from behind the curtain. "Oh you're awake!" she said. "Good. Do you know what happened?"

"It was just explained," Alex said softly. The nurse nodded, starting to take her vital signs as Alex started to grow sleepy. Gene noticed this and smiled.

"Go to sleep Bolls. We'll be back tomorrow."

Molly nodded. "I'll be back first thing."

"But..." Alex started to protest but Molly stopped her with a wave of her hand.

"Every day until you get out of here. Just like before."

Tears glistened in Molly's eyes for a moment before she blinked them away and Alex realised what Molly was talking about. She was talking about 2008.

Molly placed a kiss on her forehead. "See you tomorrow Mum," she said, grabbing hands with the boy.

"Bye, Alex," Gene muttered, his hand brushing against hers before the trio left together. Alex watched them leave, but soon, her eyes grew too heavy and she drifted to sleep.

~(*)~

A few days later, Alex was able to stay up for longer than five minutes at a time and was growing restless. Molly sat by her side, drawing idly. For once, Tom wasn't with her. They hadn't said much in the past few days, Alex only being able to get a few sentences out before she fell back asleep, and today she had been reading when Molly came in. They had said their hellos, but no serious conversation had gone on.

Growing too restless to read, Alex threw the book on her bedside table. Molly looked up at the thud.

"Bored?" she asked with a smirk.

"Completely," Alex replied sighing.

"They allowing you to move yet?"

Alex nodded. "They had me up and walking yesterday with a Zimmer frame. I felt like a pensioner."

Molly laughed. "I can push you about the hospital if you want to get out of here for a bit."

"Please," Alex said excitedly.

A few moments later Molly arrived with a wheelchair and Alex gingerly got in. Her side still hurt, even with the painkillers she'd been given.

"So where do you want to go, Mum?"

Alex shrugged. "You've been conscious around here longer than I have. Why don't you pick?"

"Do you want to go to the canteen and get a biscuit and some tea?"

Alex nodded. "That sounds perfect."

A few minutes later they were armed with Jammy Dodgers and tea, neither sure of what to say.

"Where's Tom today?" Alex asked.

"He's hanging out with the group. They need to see him too and he gets the feeling you don't care for him too much."

Alex looked down into her tea. "I don't really."

"Why not? He's a great guy."

"He kept you from me, he hid you from me, when I was _so _worried about you. I thought you were lost or kidnapped or worse."

"He didn't hide me, Mum," she replied. "I hid myself. He just made it easier. I didn't think you'd even bother to look for me."

Alex frowned at her. "Why on earth wouldn't I look for my own daughter? Especially when she leaves a drawing that's labelled like a suicide note?"

Molly frowned. "A suicide note?"

Alex nodded. "I think the paper is at my flat, but I can remember the words on there."

What Alex was talking about suddenly dawned on Molly. "Oh! The drawing! No! That wasn't a suicide note Mum! I paraphrased the lyrics!"

"Lyrics?"

"My favourite band, Avenged Sevenfold. I found this song a few months after your death, at it fit perfectly. That drawing, if I remember it right, you and Gene in one corner and me in another?"

Alex nodded.

"That was set before I came. I was so lonely before I came back, Mum. You were the only person I _really _cared about in that world since your friend Emily and her son died in 2005."

Molly watched as her Mum's brow furrowed, trying to remember who Emily was.

"Emily...Emily Dellucci?" Alex asked finally.

"Yeah. They hit a lorry. Her son was my best friend, even though he was a year older than me."

Alex's brow was still creased as memories trickled back. "Emily Dellucci. She ran into a lorry with both of her children and her brother."

Molly nodded. "Her son hung on for longer than any of them, but eventually, he passed away too."

"It wasn't right," she breathed. "He was only eleven."

"You took me to see him one day, but he was in a coma. You said to talk to him though."

"Always talk to people in comas. They can hear you."

"That's true. And I don't know if he heard me, but I do know that he still halfway remembers me."

Alex looked up. "What do you mean?"

"About a week after I got here, he told me that it had seemed like we had known each other forever."

"Her son is in this world?"

Molly nodded. "Think of her family's names."

"There was Emily. And then there was her little girl... it started with a K..."

"I'll just give you a hint, Mum. Emily's brother's name was Luigi."

"No," she said in disbelief.

"And her son's name is..."

"Tom," Alex whispered, cutting her off.

Molly nodded. "He was helping me, Mum, because that's what he needed to do. We were supposed to find each other again. I feel horrid for running away, but at the same time, I don't regret it, because if I didn't, I wouldn't have found Tom."

"Why did you run in the first place?"

"I was being selfish. You didn't recognise me, and I saw how you and Gene acted around each other. I figured if I ran, you'd give me the attention that I'd missed for so long. I thought that if I stayed there, I'd always play second fiddle to Gene."

Alex held out her arms to Molly. "Come _here,_ Molly."

Molly wrapped her arms around Alex and they embraced each other in a huge, tight bear hug.

"You listen to me, Molly Caroline Drake. Gene Hunt _never_ comes before you. We are in no way related, and at the end of the day, he is only my boss. You _always_ come first."

"Except the first day."

"I was still trying to wrap my head around it. My mothering instinct wasn't back yet."

"Is it back now?"

"You bet."

They clung on to each other like the world would end if they parted, rejoicing in the newfound closeness of their relationship.

"Mum," Molly said finally.

"What is it?"

"I really, really missed you."

Alex smiled sadly, playing with a black lock of Molly's hair. "Me too, Molls. Me too."


	13. Chapter 13

**I forgot to put in a disclaimer last time that said that Molly's view on Doctor Who is nothing like mine. Otherwise, it wouldn't be in several of the fics I've already written.**

**Anyway, thank you loads for the reviews last time and sorry I didn't update on Monday, as it was the Fourth and the whole country went patriotic. (It's not really that, I just forgot...) Anyway... Chappy 13!  
><strong>

**Chapter 13**

Molly silently scoured the empty flat. The bed linens had been stripped bare, all the knick-knacks on the shelves had been removed. The only sign that someone had once lived here were the imprints of frames on the wall. Other than that, it contained no traces of her mother at all. Taking one last look at the horrid couch, Molly walked down to the Quattro, devoid of any emotion at all.

Gene sat on the driver's side, the backseat holding the last trinkets that remained in the flat. He looked at her seriously. "You ready, Molly?"

"I suppose so," she replied with a sigh. They drove down the street in silence until Gene broke it once more.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "It wasn't a shock, but it's still going to take some getting used to."

Gene stared at her for a moment. "I'm shit at this kind of thing."

Molly gave a small grin. "I noticed that the first time I met you. Well, maybe not the _first_ time, but I figured it out rather quickly."

The corners of Gene's mouth twitched, but he remained silent staring at the road, driving until they reached Christopher Street. He slowed down and stopped in front of an Italian boy in his teens.

Molly got out of the car and hugged the boy. "Hey Tom," she said.

"How's Luigi doing since his favourite client won't be drinking there every night?" he asked quietly.

Molly shook her head and raised her eyebrows. The silent communication was all Tom needed to understand what she was saying. Tom sighed. "He's so emotional."

"Are we going?" Gene asked suddenly, his window rolled down.

Molly and Tom both jumped before looking at him.

"You ready?" Tom asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied. "I just can't believe that this is happening."

"You know you can always come back and live with us."

Molly gave a small smile. "If only. Something tells me I'm going to have to suffer through this, whatever happens."

Tom waggled his eyebrows in Gene's direction. "Good luck."

"Get in the bloody car!" Gene snapped.

Tom and Molly laughed and moved to the car.

"Don't even know why I'm taking you," Gene grumbled to Tom.

"Because I begged you," Molly said sweetly.

"Turning into a bloody taxi."

"I'll make sure to tip you at the end of the ride," Molly remarked.

Tom grinned and they settled into their seats, buckling up against Gene's insane driving. He swerved around corner after corner, narrowly avoiding several pedestrians before pulling up in front of a shop. He sighed almost immediately and started tapping on his steering wheel.

"Patience is a virtue, Gene."

"Shut it," he growled without menace.

After about three minutes, the shop door opened and Alex emerged, sporting a new haircut and two freshly cut keys.

"S'about time," Gene grumbled without menace. Alex just rolled her eyes and got into the car.

"What do you think?" she asked pointing to her head.

"Love it, Mum," Molly said. She really did. With short, straight hair and a quiff, Alex looked more like her mum than she had since Molly arrived in 1983. Alex grinned at Molly and then looked at Gene who gave a non-committal grunt before starting up the Quattro.

"How are you Tom?" Alex asked.

Since their conversation in the hospital, Alex was slowly warming up to Tom. She still harboured some resentment toward him for hiding Molly, but that was lessening.

"I'm doing great, Alex, thanks."

Alex had insisted that Tom call her by her first name, as she decided he was old enough to remove the 'Miss' formality.

Alex turned and handed Molly a key. "Thanks," she said.

Molly was a bit nervous about what was going to happen next. In the months since Alex had been released from the hospital, Gene and her mum had been growing closer. A few weeks earlier, after a day full of buying Molly whatever she seemed to want, Alex sat Molly down on the ugly couch. She had then asked what Molly thought about going to live with Gene.

To the idea which had made her run months earlier, Molly merely shrugged. "He's here almost every night anyway. I guess I was expecting this," she had said.

Soon after that, boxes had started to appear in the flat and slowly it had been packed up until today, when she retrieved the last box. Tom was coming to help her unpack her room, door wide open of course. Luckily, Gene and her mother's room was on a different level.

She was excited to have her own room. For the past several months, she had been sleeping on the sofa. When Alex returned home from the hospital, she had tried to persuade Molly to sleep in the bed, but Molly had refused, convincing Alex that it was better for her side if she had more room to move. Alex hadn't been happy but had eventually agreed.

Gene started to slow as they approached his house. Finally, they pulled up outside. Gene put the car in park and they got out, Tom grabbing the small box. Using her new key, Molly unlocked the door and stepped into the mess of boxes. There was a set of steps right in front of the door, along with two doors embedded into the wall. One led to the kitchen and another to a toilet. Up on the first level there was her bedroom, a loo, and another bedroom that was currently empty. Molly was determined to turn this into her own private sanctuary, and was in the middle of persuading Gene and her mum to let her do it. The answer had so far been no, with the argument that she already had her room to be her sanctuary. She knew she'd win eventually however.

On the second level was the master bedroom, complete with a toilet of its own, and another empty room.

If Molly went down the stairs she'd be in the sitting room, where Gene had a nice television set and a VCR. She had already checked out his supply of movies to find that they only contained Westerns.

Molly walked into the house, starting up the stairs to her room.

"Where do you want me to put this?" Tom asked.

"Anywhere," she replied. "None of it's my stuff, so Gene can sort it."

"Oi! I heard that."

Molly merely laughed and ran up the stairs to her room, Tom following behind her.

"Door open, Molly!" Alex called after her.

"Whatever," she said, out of breath, when she reached her room.

Tom followed her in. "So this is it?"

"It is!" she replied. "Isn't it _glorious?"_ she asked overdramatically, pretending to faint on the bed for good measure.

"Fabulous," Tom smirked. "Look at the size of that bed."

Molly threw a shoe at him. "Don't let Gene hear you say that."

"Don't let me hear you say what?" a voice growled from the doorway.

Tom dropped the shoe that he was holding.

"Tom likes Barry Manilow," Molly said without batting an eyelid.

"_Barry Manilow?"_ Gene asked incredulously. "Don't ever play that crap in my house, otherwise you're both getting booted out."

"Mum likes it too, Gene."

"Shit. We're going to have to talk about this...Bolly!" Gene walked down the stairs and Tom and Molly both let out a pent up breath. Molly burst into giggles.

"_Barry Manilow?_ Really Molly?"

Molly just shrugged. "It was the first thing I could think of that wouldn't get you thrown out of the house."

"Well, thanks, I guess."

Molly threw her other shoe at him. "Help me unpack this stuff."

An hour later, everything was unpacked, and the boxes thrown carelessly outside the room. They were sitting together on the floor next to Molly's bed and the stereo was playing softly.

"So what do we do now?"

Molly shrugged. "I'm not sure."

Suddenly they heard Alex giggle and the low rumble of Gene's voice coming up the stairs. They didn't stop at the landing, going up to the second floor, where a door slammed. Molly made a face and turned up her music.

"You hungry?" she asked after a few minutes of awkward silence.

Tom nodded. "Let's go down to the kitchen," she suggested. "I'll make the tea and you can fix me a sandwich."

Tom laughed. "Not if I get there first!"

He jumped down a flight of stairs and Molly followed suit, trying to get ahead of him. Eventually, however, Tom won, grabbing the kettle.

"You can make my sandwich, Miss Drake. Cheese and apple, if you will. Add some raisins."

Grumbling, Molly made the sandwiches. Just as she got done, the kettle started to whistle. Smirking, Tom poured them both a cup of tea.

"Let's go back up to my room," she suggested. "At least there's music up there." They headed back up, Tom already munching on his sandwich. Molly looked at hers, but suddenly, it was making her nauseous. Just the idea of food sounded unpleasant. Not even the tea in her hand sounded appealing. Fighting it off, Molly walked into her room, setting the food on her desk.

"I'll eat later," she said.

Tom smirked. "Do you want me to do the same?"

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Only if you want to."

Tom grinned and stood up, putting his tea and sandwich down on the desk and stacking the boxes in her doorway so they piled up almost up to the top. "Your door's not shut," he cackled.

"You're brilliant."

"I know."

Tom sat down next to her, turning her head. Slowly, carefully, his lips met hers in a kiss reminiscent of their first. His fingers slid through her hair and his tongue slowly started to part her lips.

Molly put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and sitting on his lap. He groaned as she bit his bottom lip and pulled away from her, his eyes dark. She saw the question in his eyes and nodded in acknowledgement, their faces growing closer, hands starting to find the pieces that held their clothes together.

Suddenly, Molly jumped up, the wave of nausea overwhelming her. She ran out of the room, crashing through the boxes, barely making it to the toilet before she was sick. Voices swam in her head.

"_Turn her on her side and suction her," commanded a voice. "We don't want her to choke."_

"_What caused this?" asked Evan voice._

"_It may be the drugs in her system. Because she destroyed the label, we can't give her an antidote and have to let them work their way out of the system," said the voice. "Keep her on her side in case this happens again."_

Everything was hot for a moment, but then it all went cold and the world faded to black.

~(*)~

Alex lay naked on the bed, wrapped in Gene's arms, the bright sunlight shining on her face. A slow smile worked its way across her face, remembering as he insisted they christen the bedroom. Gene's eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep, merely relaxing in the midday sun. Alex heard the soft beat of Molly's music on the level below and the noise of the two teenagers coming upstairs.

The music continued to play softly and it almost sent her to sleep until there was a crashing noise downstairs followed by Tom's cry of _'Molly!'_

Alex jumped up immediately, clothing herself faster than Gene could even move an inch. She was downstairs before he reached his pants.

"Molly, are you okay?" Tom was asking worriedly from the toilet. "Molly, can you hear me?"

Alex rushed to the toilet to see Molly sitting over it, a faraway look in her eyes. The smell of sick filled her nostrils and she rushed over to her daughter immediately.

"Molls," she murmured, putting her hand on her daughter's head, noting how cold and clammy it felt.

Molly didn't respond, continuing to stare at the wall before she slumped over.

"What's going on?" Gene asked, arriving in the room at last.

"Can you take her to her room?" Alex asked. "She's passed out and she's too heavy for me."

Gene nodded and moved into the room, picking up the girl like she weighed no more than a sack of flour. Tom and Alex followed into Molly's room, where Gene set her carefully on the bed.

"What happened?" Alex asked Tom.

"I'm not sure," he said worriedly. "We made tea and sandwiches and she said she wasn't hungry...and...and then she ran to the loo and then you were there."

"Might just be the lurgy," Gene offered. "It's going around."

Alex nodded, staring worriedly at her daughter.

"Why don't we just leave her for a bit and she'll come down when she's ready."

Alex nodded again and Tom cleared his throat. "I think I'll go," he offered. "I'll be by tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Tom," Gene said. "C'mon Bolls, I'll make you some tea."

~(*)~

When Molly awoke, it was dark. She noticed how sour her mouth tasted and moved to the loo to clean her teeth. The nausea still had not passed, but it was better than earlier. She moved around the house, looking to see if anyone was up. All the lights were off, so she headed up to her mother's room, praying to God that they had worn clothes when they went to bed. Her wish was granted when she saw her mother's satin-clad arm hanging over the bed.

Molly walked up to the bed, tapping her mother's shoulder. Alex jumped and made a noise of surprise.

"Mum. It's only me," she hissed.

"Molls," Alex said, sitting up. "When'd you wake up?"

"About ten minutes ago. What happened?"

"Wait for me in the kitchen," Alex murmured as Gene started to stir.

Molly walked down the stairs, putting the kettle on and looking into the fridge. She was rather hungry. Molly spotted carrots hidden behind bacon and eggs that were clearly for Gene and grabbed one, washing it.

She started to eat it as Alex came down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Good, you've started the tea."

"I don't know what's going on, Mum. I've not been feeling right."

"It could be the lurgy Molls."

Molly shook her head. "It's been like this for months, since the day you got shot. Weird bouts of nausea, exhaustion, and then sometimes I hear voices."

"Voices?" Alex asked as the kettle started to whistle. She stood and poured the tea, handing them both a cup.

"Not like I'm crazy. Just... sometimes I'll hear something on telly where it's like a doctor speaking to me, or Evan sometimes. God. What if I am crazy Mum?"

Alex shook her head, smiling softly. "You're not mad, honey. You're still alive in 2011. The voices you hear, that's the voices that are getting through your coma."

"So... I'm still alive there?"

Alex nodded. "Hang onto that life, Molls. You may be productive in this world, but no matter what, you're still dead. In life, you can change the world, just like I always knew you could."

"But then I won't be with you."

Tears formed in Alex's eyes. "Yes, but I will be here, waiting for my baby to return home. But not until she's good and ready."

"Are you sure, Mum?"

Alex nodded. "That life is the one you want to live."

"But I feel alive here!"

Alex said nothing, but she didn't need to. Molly knew she had to go back. "I've got to help Evan, don't I? He's so guilty about everything. I did this all out of selfishness. And I'll still have you. I'll have my pictures, and some of your recordings on the computer. It won't be the same, but I'll still have you."

Alex smiled, but her face turned into one of shock. "Molls," she whispered.

A bright light came from the doorway of the kitchen. "It's my opportunity back, isn't it?"

Alex nodded. "Go, honey. I will see you when it's time."

"Bye Mum!" she said hanging on to Alex's neck, tears pouring down her face.

"My baby," her mum whispered, wrapping her arms even tighter. Tears were falling from Alex's eyes as well. "Go."

Their embrace ended and Molly walked slowly toward the light. Soon it enveloped her and everything around her was gone, replaced by the feeling of lying down and her body feeling as though it was covered in sand. The world was silent except for one voice, which only spoke three words.

"_She's waking up."_


	14. Chapter 14

**I got the idea for this chapter when I was sitting on the tube and Life on Mars came on my ipod.**

**Thanks to all those that have reviewed.  
><strong>

**Chapter 14**

**February, 2012**

She sat in the slightly dark room, waiting for the conversation to start. In the months since she had woken up, she had never started a conversation with the psychologist. It wasn't that she was being stubborn, it was that she never knew how to start with the woman. She was nice enough, but Molly still had a bit of trouble opening up at the beginning of sessions.

"Have you had anymore dreams?"

Molly raised an eyebrow. That was an unnaturally direct way to start the conversation. Eventually she nodded. "Every night I dream about them."

"What happens in the dreams?"

"Mum and Gene are at the station, getting into one of their arguments or doing regular everyday things like shopping. Well, Mum shops and Gene complains. Sometimes it's just Mum watching telly or doing things on her own. Tom appears every once in a while to talk to her. Its either him talking to her or hanging out with the group."

"The band of runaways?"

Molly nodded and smiled sadly.

"Are you still drawing out your dreams?"

"Sometimes."

"But nothing like when you woke up after you attempted..."

"I had a whole world I had to make sure I needed to remember," Molly said, cutting her off.

"But surely, Molly, that was just a dream as well?"

Molly smiled and shook her head. "Everyone, including you, has tried to persuade me of that before. But before I did what I did, the only dream I had of my mum was her in the hospital as the monitors went flat. I know you've never taken the amount of pills I did, but the fact of the matter is, one of those things is a 'mildly sedative antidepressant.' I was supposed to take them before bed once a day. I took one or two of those before my attempt. They didn't make me dream. If one of those does that, imagine what sixty would do. I guarantee you I wasn't dreaming."

"So you really believe that there's a world of people who are dead or dying."

"Yes. And I think you can move on from there, like Tom's mum did."

"How do you know she moved on?"

"She 'disappeared.' The only way you disappear from that world is to move on or to come back. She couldn't come back. She's been dead since 2005. Tom was really torn up about how she went missing, poor bloke."

"But surely he knew she moved on?"

"It doesn't work like that. After a while you forget. That world's real to you. Mum almost forgot she had a daughter. But that time she didn't have anything to remind her of me, we were worlds apart. At least this time, she's got something to remind her."

"You sound like you want to go back."

Molly nodded. "Of course I do."

"But what if when you get back, your Mum's moved on, or Tom?"

Molly shook her head. "They won't. Mum's promised that she'll be there when I come back."

"So your Mum wants you to come back? She knows what you did and she's fine with you doing that?" the woman asked sharply.

Molly laughed. "Of course she's not. Mum wants me to live my life here, to be productive and meet a boy and be happy _living._ She had all these dreams for me, so it's the least I can do to fulfil a few. She told me when it's my time to come back, she'll be waiting for me. If I went back before, she'd be so disappointed."

"So you're living for your dead mother."

"She may be dead, but she's more alive than she ever was in this world."

The woman frowned and wrote a note. "Thanks Molly. I think that's enough for today."

Molly grinned and left the room, knowing that she had perplexed the woman. The psychologist probably thought she was completely mad now, but she didn't care. She was only going to the lady because Evan wanted her too.

After she had woken up in the hospital, Evan had had a long conversation with her. Most of it was spent with her hanging her head, shamefaced. It had finally hit her how much she had hurt Evan during the past three years. When he had told her that she was going to see a psychologist, she had remained quiet, knowing that she wouldn't be able to argue about anything for a while.

He wasn't taking any chances with her, either. He allowed her to ride the tube home by herself, but he met her at the station. She didn't go anywhere besides school or the psychologist. Molly walked away from the building, putting her iPod on shuffle. She stared a moment at the path she usually took to get to the tube station, but turned in the opposite direction, towards the Tate Modern.

She walked along the River Walk, ignoring all the tourists staring in awe of the scenery and taking photos. There was a spot that she wanted to see.

Molly stopped in the middle of the walkway, staring. It was the spot she'd avoided for over three years, since that day Arthur Layton had taken her hostage and nearly shot her. Molly stared at the only thing that remained that was familiar. A red box holding a life saving ring was still hanging on the fence. She stared at it, remembering the face of the man who had later taken her hostage. She remembered the frantic worry on her mother's face as she was pulled down the steps.

Molly walked over to the Millennium Bridge, running her hand over the rail. This was the last place she had seen her mum walking and talking in this life.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated against her thigh. Molly kept it on vibrate; she knew she wouldn't hear it over her music. She pulled the earphones out and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello."

"_Molly, where are you?"_

Molly looked at her watch. _Shit_, she thought. It was nearly fifteen minutes after she was supposed to arrive.

"Er... I'm on the South Bank."

"_What are you doing there?"_

"I...wanted to see the last place I saw...that I saw..."

"_I see. I want you home as soon as possible, okay?"_

"I was just getting ready to walk to the tube."

"_How far away are you?"_

"About fifteen minutes either way. I'll jump on Southwark, that'll be faster."

"_I'll be waiting."_

Molly sighed and hung up the phone, thinking for a moment. Walking to Mansion House would be faster than going to Southwark and switching lines at Westminster. She walked across Millennium Bridge to the tube station, swiping her oyster card and moving quickly through the turnstile.

As she rushed down the stairs, a train had just opened its doors. Quickly checking it to make sure it was going the right way, she jumped on just as the alarm sounded to close the doors. At the moment, it was standing room only, but she was unconcerned. Around Victoria, the coach would empty out.

Sure enough, she was right and a seat opened up at the end of the compartment. Molly swooped to the seat, ignoring the glares of the older businessmen around her. The sign said that she had to give up her seat for disabled people, not grumpy men.

As the train headed further east, the compartment emptied out more and more. Molly turned up her iPod against the noise and picked up a _London Evening Standard _that someone had left behind. She grinned as she read it. Jubilee Line had problems yet again that morning. It wasn't really a surprise. She remembered in May of the year before when a pin fell out of one of the doors and stalled the line for hours. There was a reason she avoided it at all costs.

That didn't mean the other lines didn't go down either. She remembered last year, also in May, when the tube station at Bayswater closed because of flooding. She remembered seeing it written on all of the signs as she walked in and out of the stations.

She sighed and threw the _Evening Standard_ behind her, turning up the music as a child started to fuss. She closed her eyes, merely listening to the songs, letting them work their magic on her. She was tense about being late for Evan, knowing that he wouldn't be happy with her. The strains of Paloma Faith's _Broken Doll_ faded away and she waited eagerly for the next song to start. Music was her life. It was how she defined herself.

The next song started and she grinned. She had always loved it.

_It's a god-awful small affair  
>To the girl with the mousy hair<br>But her mummy is yelling 'No!'  
>And her daddy has told her to go.<br>But her friend is nowhere to be seen  
>As she walks through this sunken dream<em>

Molly froze. How could this song, written nearly forty years ago, describe her so perfectly? Everything since her attempted suicide had been a small affair to her, and her hair was no longer jet black. It wasn't her mummy yelling no, it was Evan, saying no to everything, and her mother had told her to go. She no longer had friends, ignoring people for three years made them weird towards a person. And ever since she had woken up, this world hadn't seemed real. _It_ seemed like the dream.

Molly shuddered as the tannoy announced that she was at her station. That was just weird. However, the unease was washed out of her mind as she walked up the stairs the worry of what Evan was going to do running over her once more.

He was there, waiting as she swiped her card over the little yellow circle. She approached him, tucking her oyster card away.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Got distracted."

Evan gave a soft smile. "That's okay, Molls. Just _let me know_ if you're going to be late."

Molly looked up at him, surprised that she didn't get a lecture.

"Need to top off your oyster card?"

She shook her head. "Probably not for another week or so."

He nodded. "So what do you want to do for dinner?"

Molly shrugged. Things were still a bit awkward between them. She had destroyed too much in the three years after her mother's death to repair in a few months. But their relationship was getting better. And that's what she had wanted when she returned.

"Tell you what, Scrap. There's a pub just down the street from here that we pass every night. Why don't we go there, and you can get a steak and kidney pie like you like so well? I'll even treat you to a treacle tart."

Molly grinned. "Sure, Evan. Why not?"

~(*)~

_Alex answered the door and gave a small smile. "Tom, come on in."_

"_Sorry to keep bothering you, Alex, but..."_

"_It's fine, Tom. I know you miss her."_

"_I was wondering if you'd heard anything from her?"_

_Alex shook her head. "Her father is very protective. She won't be allowed to write me. I'm sure he's keeping an eye on all of her finances to make sure she's not buying stamps and watching her post to make sure she's not receiving anything from me."_

"_But wouldn't she fight? Molly's always fighting."_

_Alex smiled softly. "Sometimes you can fight all you want, but nothing ever happens. I fought and fought and fought to get Molly back, but I still lost her. She'll come back Tom, don't you worry."_

"_But it's been so long."_

_Alex smiled again. "You'll learn eventually Tom, that a few months does not equate to 'so long.' One day, a few years will seem like a short period of time."_

"_You think she'll come back?"_

"_I know she will. I don't know when, but she'll be back when she's good and ready."_

_Tom smiled. "Thanks, Alex."_

"_No problem Tom. How are the kids?"_

"_About the same. Jimmy is starting to look for a job and they all miss Molly. We've still got her drawings hanging up."_

"_I've got a few of hers around here as well. She left her sketchbook."_

_Tom looked up. "I know this sounds odd, but could I...could I have it?"_

_Alex gave a wide smile. "Of course you can, Tom. Just give it back to her when she comes back."_

"_Thank you so much," he said, a huge smile on his face._

Molly woke up slowly, a smile on her face. She would go back one day. She was certain of it.

* * *

><p>AN: The events described about the Jubilee Line and the Bayswater Station actually occurred in May this year. The Bayswater Station flooded May 26th after torrential downpours and heavy thunderstorms. (Only day it rained on my entire trip to London and it was of course the night I was going to see Keeley Hawes and that was my tube station...) The Jubilee Line lost a pin for one of its doors and they were unable to close, holding up the tube, as described in an edition of the Evening Standard I thought I had but must have thrown out.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**May, 2015**

"Molly! You meeting us at the union tonight?"

Molly laughed and turned. Her dark brunette hair swung behind her, the braid reaching down almost to her waist. "I've got to actually turn up to one class this term without a massive hangover you know!"

The girl she was talking to laughed in return. "Weak!" she yelled back. "You just need to learn how to hold your drink!"

"No, I can't for real tonight, Alisha. I've got plans."

"Ooh!" Alisha said excitedly. "Is it with _him?_" she asked as they moved to a more conversational distance.

Molly grinned. "If you're talking about Dean, then yes."

"That's _five _dates! Molly, you don't ever go out with a guy more than three. What's going on here?"

"Besides the gorgeous eyes and hair like David Tennant's?"

"Aha! So that's the only reason?"

"No. There's just something about him."

"I smell wedding bells."

Molly laughed. "I don't think so. Not yet."

"Yes. We'll have to get through six dates before anything is certain." Alisha grinned, her blonde hair glinting in the rare sun.

"Shut it."

"Fine," Alisha said, pretending to huff. "I'll see you tomorrow, after your date. You're telling me everything tonight. If you can," she added, waggling her eyebrows.

"Shut up Alisha and get out of here!" Molly laughed.

"Fine. I shall go sit in a corner and wait eagerly for a text."

Alisha walked away and Molly let out a sigh of relief. She loved Alisha like a sister, but sometimes she was wearing, especially when they started going on about boys. In Alisha's opinion, Molly needed to spend more time with them. In Molly's opinion, she needed to spend less time with them. She had already found the perfect guy for her. The only problem was he was thirty years in the past.

She had gotten used to the idea she may not see Tom again until she was very old. It disappointed her, but she knew that she couldn't do what she had done when she was fifteen. The scars on her arms had faded with time, but a few were still visible, deep enough to leave a slightly raised scar. No one had ever noticed them, but she still did on occasion.

She remembered how her mum had found the markings in 1983. She remembered the disappointment in her face, the hurt and grief. That alone made her not want to take a blade to her skin anymore. Combined with Evan watching her, she was over three years clean, something she was proud of.

Dreams of the eighties no longer came to her. She had not seen Tom since she'd gone off to Uni. She had not seen her mother since she was sixteen. The first night she had not dreamed of her, she had cried, but now, she was getting used to it. She had to adjust to everything in her life. That was her only option. She had been living for her mother and Evan. Evan had been delighted in her renewed social life when she started to gain friends again. He had let her have them over whenever she felt like and allowed her to go out with them as often as she wanted.

However, Evan had died a month before. He had come down with pneumonia and his immune system couldn't handle it. He had spent three days unconscious before his heart finally gave out. Molly had wept bitterly. Their relationship had been strong once more, possibly stronger than it had been when she was twelve. She had trusted Evan with everything, and he had been happy to let her talk to him.

On the day of his funeral, her father flew in once more. He had grown old in the six years since she had last seen him, his hair greying and disappearing from the front of his scalp.

Molly remembered their entire conversation word-for-word.

"_I'm sorry about this, Molls."_

"_He was getting old," she said stoically. "I knew he was going to leave me sometime."_

"_But you're left all alone here."_

"_I've got my mates. It's better for me to stay here than jump around the world and try to start over. At least I've already got a life."_

_Her father nodded. "You're so grown up now. Last time I saw you, you were shoulder high."_

"_A lot happens in six years," she said coldly._

"_I..."_

_She shook her head. "Not today. Not on the day the man who seemed like my dad is buried."_

She had watched them leave the cemetery later, stopping when a stone caught her father's eyes. He gave a sad smile and put his hand on it, as though he was caressing it. Kneeling down on the ground, he pulled a flower out of his jacket and set it on the ground in front of the grave. Molly's eyes welled up with tears when she saw it. It was her mother's favourite flower, a summer snowflake. Maybe he did care after all.

Molly threw her keys on the table as she walked into her flat. People had wondered how she could afford this, working no job and having no one else, but Evan had set up something for her in his will. Then she'd just have to wait until she was twenty-one until her mother's trust fund kicked in.

She looked at the clock. She still had a few hours before Dean would pick her up. She stared at her almost full sketchbook, debating about whether or not to start on another drawing. Finally, she shook her head, knowing that if she started she would be unable to stop.

Sighing, she closed the notebook and turned around. Molly gave a small scream of surprise. Alex was sitting on the couch, Gene next to her. They were both staring at something, grins on their faces. Neither acknowledged her existence, just like when she dreamed about them.

"Can we please have something with grease in it tonight, Bolly? I'm sick of this rabbit food you've got me eating!"

"A few servings of fruit a day is hardly rabbit food. And you'll like dinner tonight."

He sighed and pulled her to him. "How many times do I have to tell you it's tea, Bolls?"

"As many as you want. I'm still calling it dinner."

"Cheeky mare."

She grinned at him. It remained silent until he spoke again.

"How's your book coming?"

"It's actually almost done. Just a few more chapters and I'll be all done."

"What then?"

"Then I try to get someone to publish it."

"I'll make them," Gene growled.

Alex laughed. "Thanks, Gene. I don't think your talents will be appreciated, however."

He shrugged. "A little physical intimidation won't hurt."

"Tell you what, if everyone says no, I'll let you beat them up."

Gene grinned happily. "Now you're speaking my language, Bolly."

It fell silent again, both of them staring at the same spot on the floor.

"What are you thinking about, Bolls?" he asked gruffly.

"I'm just wondering about Molly," she said softly. "How's she doing? I never get to hear from her."

"I'm doing fine, Mum," Molly said, but she knew Alex wouldn't be able to hear her.

"I'm sure she's fine, Bolly."

Alex gave a small smile. "I'm sure she is too. I just miss her."

Gene pressed a kiss to her head.

She leaned up and turned to look at him. "By the way. Tom is going to come over for dinner tonight."

"Bloody kid. We bring in one and she brings a spare."

Alex laughed and hit him on the shoulder. "You love Tom, admit it!"

He just glared at her without menace.

"Right, I guess I should start dinner," she said standing.

"No more rabbit food!" he said, standing with her.

"Alright. None of that. Hmm... How about Turkey Tetrazzini?"

She grinned and ran out of Molly's sight. Gene frowned a moment and picked something up off the floor before running after her.

"Wait Bolly! What the bloody hell is tetrazzini?"

The flat was quiet once more. Molly closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. Her mother still remembered her, and Tom was turning into a son to them. It was perfect there.

She looked at the clock. It was probably time to start getting ready. Dean would be here in an hour. Part of her was looking forward to tonight, but there was a part that sighed inwardly. Dean was nice enough, but she was certain that he wasn't right for her. He was too nice, too polite and careful. One slip up in his grammar had him apologising like he'd vomited food all over her. Still, he was more interesting than some of the men she'd gone out with.

She sat in front of her mirror and gazed at her hair. Over the past three years it had slowly grown darker, gradually becoming the same colour as her mum's. She had no idea how it had happened, but she liked it. It was a much better colour than the mousy brown she had been stuck with.

Molly debated about what she should do with it. It was so long now, almost too long. She decided to pull it from the braid she had set it in that morning. As she ran her fingers through it, it fell into waves down her back. She looked at it and shrugged. Why not? It looked alright.

She applied her makeup, merely putting on some nude eyeshadow and mascara. Molly had never really gotten into the makeup scene. She felt fine with this, why go any further?

Grinning to herself and turning on her iPod, she turned towards her wardrobe. Molly looked for a decent outfit to wear as the last strains of Mumford & Sons _The Cave_ faded from the speakers.

She froze as the next song started. She'd recognise that piano introduction for the rest of her life, no matter how infrequently she heard the song. As the piano cut to guitars she smiled sadly. It had been so long since she had listened to Avenged Sevenfold. She had almost forgotten about this song's existence. This song, which had defined her so perfectly, still defined her, but not like before. She started to sing along.

"_So far away I've gone. Please don't follow me tonight and while I'm gone, everything will be alright."_

That line, which she had always ignored, fit now. She was the one who'd gone so far away. She was reassuring Tom now, instead of her mother reassuring her. But no one could follow her here. She had been the only one in that world that was still living.

Wiping away a stray tear, she finished getting ready. Molly looked at her appearance in the mirror and nodded. She looked alright.

Molly looked at the clock. She still had forty minutes. Wondering what to do, she looked once more at the sketchbook. She grinned. She had an idea.

She went back to her room, pulling a box out of the wardrobe. The only thing in it was notebooks. She reached down to the bottom, grabbing the last one in the stack. Running her hand over the cover, she opened it and read the sloppy handwriting in the corner.

_Molly Drake  
>Age 12<em>

Her first sketchbook, bought soon after her mother's death. She flipped through the pages, noting how dark the pictures were, how much shading was used. Her mother's face appeared on every other page, sometimes happy, sometimes angry. In one, she was yelling at Evan.

Molly flipped through each notebook, noting how eventually her mum appeared less and less and other things started to take her place. There were a few drawings of Evan later on in the stack as well.

Finally she grabbed the notebook on the desk outside her room. All the pages were covered in different things from Uni, a lot of doodles on pages where she was supposed to be listening to an instructor. There was one dated from about a month earlier of Evan. She had drawn it when he was unconscious in hospital, planning to show it to him when he woke up. He always liked to see what she had drawn. However, he never got to see it.

A few page flips later and she was at the end of the notebook just as a knock sounded on her door.

Molly got up and opened the door, smiling at the man who stood on the opposite side. He had the brightest blue eyes and darker brown hair that was permanently ruffled. The first time she had seen it, she'd wanted to put her hands on it and just touch it. When she did, it was as fluffy as it looked.

"How are you, Molls?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"I'm doing well, thanks, Dean," she replied.

They walked down the street, chatting to each other quietly, laughing. As they reached London Road, they stopped, waiting for traffic to pass before crossing the street. Molly looked across the street and froze.

Tom was standing on the other side of the crossing.

She stared at him for a moment. He grinned and started to talk. She couldn't hear what he was saying. Not thinking, she pulled her arm out from Dean's and started to walk toward Tom.

"MOLLY!" Dean's voice yelled suddenly.

Molly looked up in time to see a bus speeding towards her. Its horn started to blare and she turned to run back towards Dean. Suddenly there was an agonising pain all over her body and then the world faded to black.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**May, 1987**

Alex and Gene sat on the couch next to each other, revelling in the unusual quiet that the house had taken on.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" she asked him.

He gave her a small smile and brushed the hair out of her eyes. She had grown out her hair from 1983, and her perm was back. It was not as harsh as the one she had had when she arrived in 1981, but it was a perm nonetheless and he had teased her endlessly about it.

"Of course we did the right thing, Bolls. We're both old and knackered and need our sleep."

She laughed. "You seem to be contradicting yourself with the 'need our sleep thing.'"

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"Seems to me you were intent to keep me up all night last night."

He grinned. "Waste not, Bolly. In fact..."

He pushed her down to the couch and she squealed. He pressed his lips against hers, but she pulled away.

"Take the phone off the hook, Gene," she murmured, grinning.

"I like the way you think, Bolls."

Gene reached over to where the phone sat, but just as he was about to pull it off the receiver, it started ringing.

"Bugger," he said, getting off Alex and standing to answer the phone. "Hunt. What the bloody hell do you want?"

Alex grinned as she heard his grumpy greeting, praying to hell it wasn't someone important he was speaking to.

The phone was suddenly in front of her face and she looked up at Gene.

"It's for you," he said, his voice as confused as his face.

"Hello?"

"_Alex?" _the voice on the other end said anxiously.

"Tom? What's going on?"

"_I'm at the hospital. Charlie, Jimmy's little sister?"_

"Yes?" she said, wondering why he was telling her about the girl she'd only met a handful of times.

"_She was walking by London Road today when she saw a woman get hit by a taxi. When she went to help the woman, she..."_

"What about the woman Tom?" Alex urged.

"_It was Molly. It was like she materialised out of thin air right in front of the taxi, apparently."_

Alex nearly dropped the phone. "Where is she Tom?"

"_St. Thomas'."_

"I'll be there in just a minute."

Alex hung up the phone and stood quickly.

"What's going on, Alex?" Gene asked, noting the concern on her face.

"Molly," she said worriedly. "She's been hit by a taxi."

"Bloody hell! C'mon Bolls. Let's fire up the Quattro."

They rushed out the blood red Audi that was still in perfect condition. Gene took off in his normal high-risk driving style, it being somewhat worse today. Alex remained silent. He noticed this and gave her leg a squeeze of reassurance.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Alex," he said.

"But if she's not..."

"Oh, no, Bolly. You are not allowed to blame this on yourself. You had no idea she was in the bloody city."

Alex nodded, knowing it would be better to just agree with him. Finally, after an eternity, they pulled up in front of the A&E. Alex ran inside, finding Tom pacing frantically in the waiting room. Charlie was waiting with him, her features much more grown up than the last time they had met.

"What's going on Tom?" she asked.

"I don't bloody know!" he said, frustrated. "They figured out Molly and I weren't related and won't tell me a fucking thing!"

A moment passed.

"Sorry for the language."

Alex grinned, hiding her nerves. "It's not a problem. I'll see if I can wheedle anything out of them." She walked up to the desk, where a nurse sat, sorting through papers. Alex merely waited until the nurse looked up, knowing that not interrupting her would make their relationship start off better, and thus, she may be able to get more information.

"Can I help you?" asked the nurse sounding stressed.

"Yes. I'm sorry to disturb you, but my daughter was brought in. She was in a car accident," Alex said, controlling her panic and trying not to sound brash.

"We've got three here today," the nurse said apologetically.

"Molly Drake. She was hit by a taxi."

The nurse's eyes lit up. "I suppose you'd like some information?"

_No, I just came here to chat, _she thought. "It would be lovely if you could give me an update," she said sweetly.

"I'm not entirely sure on the details, but I know she was brought in in stable condition. She was unconscious, however. I'll let the nurses know you're here and one of them might be able to come out and tell you more."

"Thank you so much, er.."

"Janice," the nurse said, smiling.

"Thank you so much, Janice. You were a great help."

The nurse grinned even wider and scurried away. Alex turned and smirked to herself. Almost too easy. You just had to be polite and considerate. Or, if that didn't work, have Gene come in and flirt shamelessly. That's how they were able to interview suspects in hospital so easily.

Alex walked back to the waiting room where she heard Gene's voice.

"Don't worry. She'll use her psychotwattery and sort the nurses out."

"_Psychology_ works a lot of the time, Gene," Alex said, trying not to let the panic show in her voice.

"What's going on?" Tom asked, standing immediately.

"She's stable. She was unconscious when they brought her in. The nurse didn't know anymore but she was going to get someone to tell us what was going on."

"Thank god!" Tom said to the air.

No nurse appeared, but within the hour, a doctor appeared at the waiting room door. Worried, Alex jumped up immediately, ignoring the other people in the room.

"Ms. Drake?" he asked.

Alex nodded. "What's going on?"

"The taxi hit her pretty hard," the doctor said. Her fibula, that is, the smaller of the two bones in her lower leg, is broken. Some ribs are cracked as well, but those aren't serious. The only thing we are really concerned about is the fact that she hit her head as she fell and has remained unconscious since arriving."

"But she'll wake up?"

"It's impossible to tell the extent of damage that the brain received. We are fairly certain, however that she should be waking up within the next several hours. I can take you to see her if you'd like?"

Alex nodded, trying to control her emotions. Her daughter was unconscious and might not wake up. However slim the possibility, it was about one hundred times more prevalent to her than it was to the doctor.

Alex was led to Molly's room, Gene, Tom and Charlie following behind. As she entered, she was aware of Gene holding the other two back.

"Let her go by herself," he said softly.

Alex walked in, seeing the quiet figure on the bed and walking over quickly. She smiled softly, reaching out and touching her daughters face. It had been three years, but she had not forgotten this time.

As her happiness over seeing Molly started to die down a little, the wounds became more evident. Her cheek was scraped up and there were bruises darkening on her arms. One eye was bruised and there were a few plasters on her arms, covering up cuts that must have been there.

Alex stroked Molly's face. "My baby," she whispered, continuing to take in Molly's features. Her hair was brunette now instead of the jet black it had been three years previously. It was styled just a bit differently than it had been in 1983. Now, one could almost describe it as a perm.

Tom entered the room with Charlie and Gene a few moments later. "She looks so different," he whispered.

"I hardly recognised her," Charlie said. "If it hadn'tve been the birthmark and the scar on the forehead, I wouldn't have recognised her at all.

Tom grabbed her hand and smiled. "C'mon, _Felicitá, _wake up. I think you're just an _attenzione cercatore,_ an attention seeker. First night I meet you, you hit your head on a step, first night you're back you get hit by a taxi. C'mon,_ Ira_. Stop faking us out," he said teasingly.

Tom glanced up to see the rest of the group smiling as well. They sat in silence for a while, all lost in their own thoughts. A low moan brought them all back to attention immediately. Alex's head snapped up from where it rested on Gene's shoulder, nearly connecting with his chin on the way up. They all looked at the bed where the young woman's eyes were flickering. Gene stood, going out to find a nurse to alert them. Meanwhile, Molly's eyes opened a crack. She blinked a few times before her eyes stayed open.

"Welcome back, Molly," Alex said, smiling and patting Molly's hand. Molly frowned and her eyes flickered over to where Alex was sitting before they became wide in disbelief.

"Jesus Christ," she said. "Oh my God. I've gone mad."

Alex frowned. "Molls?"

"Fucking hell. Holy, fucking hell."

"Molly, are you okay?" Tom asked, still holding her hand.

She wrenched it out of his grip looking at him in confusion. "And who the bloody hell are you? What's going on?"

She was almost shouting now, kicking off her bed linen with one leg and trying to get out of the bed. A nurse entered, her face one of concern. She gave Molly a shot of something that started to relax her. Alex held on to her daughter as she slowly started to flicker out of consciousness.

"I don't understand," she murmured. "You're dead." Her eyes closed as she went limp in Alex's arms.

Alex frowned as she set Molly down on the bed. Tom was staring at the girl, dumbfounded and Charlie's expression was not any different. Only Gene stood without an expression.

The nurse left the room and came back a few minutes later with a doctor.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he said apologetically. "Obviously, your presence here has distressed her, so until we can do further tests, I'd like it just to be us and her. We'll ring you with any development.

Alex nodded, staring at her daughter. She stood, brushing her hand over Molly's cheek and kissing her forehead. Tom and Charlie exited a few moments later and they walked toward the Quattro together.

"What's going on with her?" Tom asked.

"She seems to have memory loss," Alex replied softly. It's probably a result of her hitting her head."

"But she'll be okay, won't she?"

To that, Alex had no answer.

~(*)~

The phone rang that night at 9:06. Alex picked it up after the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Yes, is Alex Drake there?"

"Speaking."

"Ah. Miss Drake. This is Doctor Tesput from St. Thomas'. I have some results regarding your daughter."

"What's going on?" she asked worriedly.

"Molly seems to have memory loss related to her concussion. She's reasonably confused, and was unable to tell me even what year it might be. When asked what age she was, she was unable to give an answer. The only thing she seemed certain of is that you were not supposed to exist. Can you explain that?"

"She lived with her father who liked to pretend that," Alex replied bitterly. She could almost hear the doctor's head nod in understanding.

"She has no idea who the boy, girl and man are that were with you today. For this reason, if you come to visit her, please come alone for the first few times. Get her used to the fact that you're around first."

"I can visit in the morning?"

"Yes, Ms. Drake. You may visit as soon as visiting hours start."

"Thank you," Alex whispered down the phone.

"You're welcome. Have a good night."

With that, the other end clicked.

~(*)~

Molly woke up as the nurse touched her arm.

"Molly," she said quietly. "I'm just going to get your vitals, okay?"

Molly sighed and nodded, offering up her arm for the blood pressure cuff. She was already growing annoyed with being in the hospital, but what she was more annoyed with was the lack of the answers she seemed to be getting. How was her mother still alive? How the hell was she in...1987? 1987 was almost a decade before she was born! And more importantly, who were the other three with her mother? The young man with a slight Italian accent acted like he knew her. He was _holding her hand. _But she was certain she had never seen him in her life!

As the nurse bustled out, someone else walked in. Molly looked up to see her mother, giving her a small smile. What should she do? Obviously this woman was a construct of her mind. But what had happened to cause this? And why would she stick herself in a year where she hadn't even been born yet? It made no sense.

"Hi, Molls," her mother said softly.

Molly looked at her cautiously. Alex smiled softly and looked down. "It's a bit weird, isn't it? You're convinced I'm dead, and yet, here I stand before you."

"Obviously something's happened to me in the real world," she said superiorly.

Alex nodded. "Right in one."

"So where am I?"

"The line between living and dying."

"I don't understand."

"What's the last thing you remember from your world?"

Molly thought. This _was _difficult. She remembered vaguely a few notebooks and a boy. Ignoring them, she thought back to the last _clear_ memory she had. "I went to visit your grave. I was drawing there. I hadn't left, I don't think."

"Do you know what you were drawing?"

"The same thing I always draw. You. I wanted to get back to you, but I didn't think it was possible."

Alex frowned. She was obviously speaking from the viewpoint of fifteen or earlier. Alex cringed, imagining the piece of work Molly had been at that age.

"The last age you remember yourself being?"

"Fourteen."

Alex smiled softly. "I think you're a bit older than that, sweetheart."

"How much older?"

"Three to four years."

"How could I just lose four years of my life by receding into my mind?"

"This isn't in your head. This is real."

Molly laughed. "This can't be real."

"Molls, you've already been here once."

Molly stopped laughing and stared at Alex. "What are you talking about?"

"When you were fifteen. You told me about it. You tried to kill yourself to get back to me."

Molly was horrified. She had been in this world before?

"So the people with you?"

"They know you."

"Who are they?"

"The boy is Tom, the girl Charlie."

"His girlfriend?"

"No. You were."

Molly just stared at Alex incredulously. "You're acting like I had a life here."

"You did. You ran away and lived with Tom, Charlie and a few other kids for a while. I was shot at work and you came back."

Molly shook her head. This didn't make any sense. How could she not remember this? "Who was the blonde man?"

"That's Gene," Alex said softly.

"Who's he?"

Alex looked away. "I live with him."

"You're joking, right?"

Alex shook her head. "Believe it or not, you approved it when you were here the last time."

"So how did you meet him?"

"He was my boss."

"_Mum!"_

"It took us over two and a half years to do anything, Molly. It's not like I came here and just decided to sleep with him."

"_Ew!"_

Alex merely sighed.

"What did you mean, was?" Molly asked finally.

"He was promoted to Super. He had to be. It was either that or be pensioned off. I moved to Scotland Yard to be a profiler. I work part time there now."

"Only part time?"

Alex looked away and Molly knew she was hiding something.

"What's going on, Mum?"

"Err... This may be hard to take, but you've a sister."

"_What?" _Molly shouted.

"Her name's Amelie."

Molly lay back in her bed processing the information. Her ribs hurt quite badly from sitting up.

"Jesus Christ," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Molly. I didn't want to drop all of this on you..."

"No, dropping seems to be the only way to get anything in the world. Why wasn't she with you yesterday?"

"She's been staying for the week with her grandmother in Manchester. We were going Saturday to stay the weekend and pick her up."

"You're not going now?"

"I'm not. If they don't let you out..."

"They were talking about letting me out tomorrow. I've just got to make appointments with a psychologist until my memory returns."

Alex frowned at her. "Are you sure you'd be up to driving to Manchester?"

Molly shrugged. "Why not? They're all saying that I've got to deal with people to get my memory back."

Alex smiled. "Do you want me to ring Tom and the others to come visit? They may be able to help."

Molly considered it. "Yeah, I guess so."

Alex stood. "I'll go do that." Hesitating a moment she walked over to Molly's bed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I did miss you, you know."

Molly sighed as her mother walked away trying to control her overwhelming thoughts. "I did too, Mum," she said softly. "I did too."

**To those of you who noticed the time the phone rang, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. *innocent smile*  
><strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Several days later, Molly was staring at an empty house waiting for Tom to arrive. In the end, she had decided not to go, as she was tired most of the time from the pain killers she was taking for her ribs and leg. The bruises were slowly disappearing from her body and the cuts were healing. However, her memory still had not made a comeback, and she was left in a constant state of confusion as people alluded to her supposed former life in this world.

However, signs of her were apparent through the house. There were a few photos of her with black hair, styled in the eighties sense of horrible (though it wasn't as horrible as it was now) and the room that had been hers was still intact. Molly hadn't found much to go on in the room however and was now sitting at a dead end in her recovery. There were no triggers here. How was she supposed to remember anything?

Molly heard the sound of the front door opening but did not move from her bed, where she was sitting. Alex had told her that Tom had acquired his own key some time ago and would watch the house for them while they were away. She heard him call her name but didn't reply. Tom made her uncomfortable. When he looked at her, there was a look in his eyes that she didn't understand. And he wasn't trying to look at her like that. She knew that he wasn't even aware he was doing it. But there was such a passion in that look that she couldn't look back.

She heard him walking up the stairs and knew that he was coming to find her. She had been hiding in her room since she had returned to Alex's house, unable to hang around Gene and Alex, slightly irritated by them. They acted like teenagers around each other, always engaging in playful banter that more often than not ended up in Alex slapping Gene lightly on the back of the head and him glaring at her playfully.

There was a knock on the wall next to her door. Molly looked up to see Tom standing in her doorway.

"Hey, Molls," he said, giving her that look.

"Hey," she said quietly, wishing he would look away, and that he wouldn't call her Molls. Only people she knew could call her that.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. The pain isn't as bad as it was."

"Good," he said. "Anything on the memory front?"

Molly shook her head ruefully. "Same as the day I came. There's not even a flicker."

Tom looked at the floor uncomfortably. "I had an idea, if you wanted to try it?"

"What's that?"

"You never really lived here. Your dad picked you up the night you and Alex moved into the house."

Alex had already informed Molly of the story they used to cover the fact she was from the future.

"So if I didn't live here, where did I live?"

"You lived in a flat above my uncle's restaurant. We can't go there now, because there's a new tenant, but we can go to his restaurant and back to the house that we live in."

"I lived there?"

"For a little over a week or so. It's not much, but it's longer than you lived here."

Molly thought about it for a moment and then nodded to her leg which was immobilised. "What will we do about this?"

Tom grinned. "I can drive now. I've got my little scrap heap parked out front. If you want to hop in, we can slowly drive through the car park of rush hour London."

Molly grinned. She may not remember him, but he made good analogies. "Sure. Sounds good." She grabbed her crutches and slowly made her way downstairs.

"Don't fall down the stairs," Tom remarked dryly, seeing her struggle. "The last thing we need is you to end up with another bump on your head."

"That might restore my memory," she joked.

"That's true!" Tom said thoughtfully. "Here, I'll just give you a push."

Molly got to the landing and turned around. "See, I can make it."

Tom just held up his hands. "Next time, then."

Molly said nothing, struggling to his car.

They drove across the city in an awkward silence. Molly knew why. Tom had no idea how to deal with her, and she had no idea with him either. This would be so much easier if her bloody memory would return! She knew that wishing wouldn't make it just return. She needed a trigger, something she was hoping to find at Tom's house.

Finally, they arrived at a small, slightly shabby house.

"Careful," Tom said as she approached the steps. Molly stopped and looked at him. "Sorry. It's just... the first time we met you fell and hit your head on the steps."

"Didn't lose my memory that time, did I?" she asked bitterly.

"Nope. You were out for a while though. That's where you got that scar on your forehead."

Molly had noticed the scar a few days earlier, wondering what had caused it, but said nothing, figuring it was just something she'd forgotten from the real world.

They walked up the steps to the door and Tom let her in. "It hasn't been updated since you left. Everything's exactly the same."

Molly said nothing, staring at the house, willing something to pop out to her. Nothing did however. She walked through the kitchen and into the room with the television, where a boy of sixteen or seventeen was sitting, watching it. He had dark brown hair and grey eyes. The boy looked up as they entered the room.

"Who's this?" he asked. "She's a bit old to be bringing in, isn't she?"

Tom smiled. "Ethan, this is Molly."

Ethan's eyes widened and he dropped the remote. "Molly?" he asked in disbelief.

She nodded. Ethan looked at Tom. "Does she...?" He trailed off as Tom shook his head.

"Ah. Well..." he said awkwardly. "My name's Ethan, like Tom said. Err..."

"Good to meet you Ethan," she said quietly. "Again...I guess..."

He grinned.

"Are any of the others here?" Tom asked.

"Everyone is. Ella and Charlie are putting a puzzle together with Kate, I think and Jimmy's out pretending he's the star of Arsenal."

"Right. Do you want to go meet them Molly?"

Molly didn't hear him. Something had caught her eye. A piece of paper had been framed and hung on the wall by the doorway. She moved over there and started looking at it. It was a drawing of six people sitting at a table in a restaurant. They were obviously in some sort of raucous conversation, three of the faces thrown back laughing, two grinning and one boy looking disgruntled. One of the people had a fork halfway to his mouth and another was holding a breadstick across her mouth like a moustache.

"_Tom'll look like this when he's older," _a voice said calling from deep within her. "_Ah, bella. Do you-uh wanta some ofa my pasta?"_

There was a roar of laughter and the memory faded. Molly continued to stare at the picture, willing more to come through.

"Molly?" Tom asked.

She pointed to the faces. "Charlie," she murmured, pointing to the girl with the breadstick across her lip. "And that one's Jimmy. Kate, Ella, Ethan, and Tom."

Tom stared at her a moment. "That's exactly right." His face broke out in a wide grin. "Molly! You remembered something!"

She grinned excitedly. "Do you have anymore?"

"I've better than that. I completely forgot. Come with me!"

Molly followed Tom up the stairs, Ethan shouting behind them. Tom entered a room that had two beds in it. Tom went under one bed, pulling out a box and opening it. He pulled out a satchel and pulled a notebook out of it. "Both are yours. But when your mum allowed me the notebook, I couldn't take one without the other."

Molly looked at the bag, staring at it. It seemed a bit familiar. She took the notebook and opened it up, seeing her signature staring back at her.

_Molly Drake  
>Age 15<br>1983, 1984_

She studied the drawings in the notebook, each one seeming familiar, but none stirring a memory like the one from the sitting room. She put it down in disappointment, looking up to see a group of people staring at her hopefully.

Molly grinned. "I didn't know I'd attract such an audience."

"Did you get anything?" Tom asked.

Molly shook her head. "Just a feeling of familiarity. But that's better than how it's been."

"I'm glad you've remembered something," said a ginger girl she immediately placed as Ella.

"Me too," she said truthfully. "Even names are better than nothing."

"That means it'll come back," Tom said.

Molly laughed. "Possibly. The mind's a funny thing."

"Oi. Don't ruin our hope, _cinica signorigna."_

"Tom. Will you _shut up _with the Italian?" a blonde boy she knew as Jimmy asked.

"Never. Cause now I know it annoys you," he said, grinning.

They argued good naturedly for a while until Kate put a stop to it. "Why don't we all go to Luigi's and celebrate?" she asked.

This was met with a cheer. Tom looked at her. "What do you say, Felicitá?" he asked.

"Why not?" she said and the group cheered once more.

~(*)~

Several hours later, Molly fell into her bed, completely worn out. Today was more than she'd exerted herself since she had arrived in this world. Nothing more had sparked a memory, something which disappointed her more than people realised. She felt like the odd one out, but at the same time, like people were staring at her. They were all waiting expectantly for her to remember them, but it made her head hurt to try. Not for the first time, she wished for a key to her mind so that she would be able to unlock the memories that were kept away.

Molly kept thinking about the memory that had surfaced earlier that night. She played it over and over in her head, trying to think if she had been doing anything special at that point. As much as she tried, she couldn't think of what she had done.

She decided to flip through the notebook once more, looking for anything that triggered a memory. She studied each picture carefully, but nothing rang a bell. Frustrated, Molly threw the notebook across the room. If her drawings wouldn't trigger a bloody memory, then what could?

Molly sighed. This was pointless. She was just going to have to relearn everything and live without the four or whatever years of memories she seemed to be missing. Hell, she didn't even know how old she was anymore. She knew that she was older than fourteen, but _how much?_ She and Alex had decided to go with eighteen, since that _would _be her age in this world, but it would be nice to know if she was _really _eighteen or not.

There was a knock at her door. "Come in," Molly sighed.

Tom opened the door and stepped in the room. He was staying with her to make sure she was okay. Gene and her mum had converted the spare bedroom on this level to a guest bedroom where Tom was staying.

"You doing okay, Molly?"

She nodded. "Just frustrated."

"I understand that."

_No, you don't, _Molly thought bitterly. _You try waking up without a memory. See what you think about that._ She said nothing, however and they sat in an awkward silence.

"Do you...err... want some tea?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Oh. Okay. Well...if you need anything, let me know," he said scratching his head awkwardly.

Molly nodded, feeling bad for making him feel so out of place. He gave her a small smile and left the room, closing the door behind him. Sighing, she changed into pyjamas, even though it wasn't quite eleven at night. She was tired enough to sleep for a week.

Molly lay down on the bed, suddenly wide awake. Of course this would happen! Her thoughts would race for the next hour now. She sighed, thinking about grabbing her notebook to flip though it again when a sudden pain ripped through her chest. It felt like she had been electrified.

The world was starting to go dark around her, but she heard a voice shouting through the blackness.

"_We're losing her! Hang on Molly! Hang on!"_

Another jolt of electricity. Tears were streaming down Molly's face with the pain that was coursing through her body.

"_It's not doing any good. Molly, can you hear me? Molly?"_

The world went black.


	18. Chapter 18

**This is it! The final chapter. I never imagined that it would come to this, honestly. This fic was originally a oneshot, written through the grief of learning that the woman whom I considered my grandmother had died. I just forgot to click "complete" when I posted it and you guys, being as amazing as you are, asked for more. This story was really fun to write and helped with the end of my term in the spring. I hated every class I was taking and was so frustrated by the end of term, and this gave me a place to rage. So I thank you, my amazing readers for encouraging me to continue. So here it is.  
><strong>

**Chapter 18**

Molly awakened with a gasp. Startled, she tried to remember where she was. She tried to work out her surroundings, but it was too dark. Molly sat up, crying out when it caused her a sharp pain in the stomach. Ignoring the pain, she tried to stand, finding out that her foot was encased in something hard and difficult to stand on. Shifting all her weight to one foot, she hopped to the light switch, which was just barely visible in the dark room. Molly flipped the light on, sinking to the ground as the light blinded her. Her stomach stung in pain as she changed positions but she ignored it.

As Molly's eyes slowly adjusted to the light, there was a knock at her door. She didn't bother to answer, staring in amazement at the room she found herself in. It was her room from the eighties. Molly grinned. She was back. She had gotten back finally. She tried to remember how this had happened. She had been with Dean, and he had been shouting at her, and then there was nothing. At least nothing until she woke up a few moments ago.

There was another knock at the door and she looked up at it excitedly, knowing it had to be her mum on the other side of the door. Gene slept too heavily to notice anything, but Alex would have heard her scream and hopping across the room. Reaching up to grab the handle, she pulled the door open, keeping her seated position.

To her surprise, her mother didn't walk in. Instead it was Tom, clad only in his boxers. She grinned. Lovely.

"Molly?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

She frowned. He almost looked cautious. And what was he doing here anyway? Why wasn't he at the house Luigi bought for them? Also, why didn't he look surprised to see her? If she had just come back...

Molly realised suddenly that she wasn't in the same place as she had been when the accident had happened in 2015. She had to have been here for a while. Last time she had woken up here, she'd woken up in her house, 28 years in the past. Surely she should have woken up on London Road?

"How did I get here?" she asked.

"What do you mean? We drove home from Luigi's after dinner."

"We went to dinner at Luigi's?"

"Molly, what's going on?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out!" she said. "Why are you in Gene's house anyway? I mean, I don't exactly mind the sight of you in boxers, but why are you here?"

Tom frowned at her. "I'm making sure you're alright while Alex and Gene are in Manchester."

"Why? What's wrong with me?"

"You were hit by a taxi," he said slowly.

"_What?_ And why are mum and Gene in Manchester?"

"Molly, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know how I got here, and I don't know what you're on about." She was seriously confused now.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was on London Road. And then I woke up here."

"Okay. This is going to sound weird. Do you know how old you are?"

Molly frowned. "Tom, why..."

"Just answer the question."

"I'm eighteen."

"How old were you the last time you were here?"

"Fifteen."

"Where have you been for the past three years?"

"With my dad, in Canada," she replied, remembering the cover story quickly.

"Okay. Last question. How did we meet?"

"You jumped out of the bushes in Hyde Park and scared the shit out of me."

Suddenly she was pulled from the floor as Tom picked her up in a huge hug. "You're back, _Felicitá!"_

"What's happened? Where was I? Besides Canada, I mean."

"Let's go downstairs and I'll make tea and explain everything."

Molly tried to grab her crutches and shrieked when Tom picked her up instead. "I'm not spending a year waiting for you to try and get down the stairs," he said.

"Am I really that bad at using them?" she laughed.

"_Yes,"_ Tom said. "Good God, if you had seen yourself earlier..."

They made it downstairs and Tom sat her in one of the chairs. He moved to the stove, turning the kettle on and sat, waiting for the water to boil. However, as soon as his bottom hit the chair, he bounced back up, grabbing a packet of custard creams from the cupboard.

"Your mum keeps them stocked for me," he grinned.

"Exactly how often are you over here?"

"A few times a week. I watch Amelie for them while they're working."

"Who's Amelie?"

Tom looked horrified for a moment. "Shit. I forgot you can't remember anything since getting here."

"Who's Amelie, Tom?"

"Er...She's your half sister."

"_What?"_

The kettle started to whistle and Tom jumped up to grab it. He poured them both a cup of tea and sat back down, still looking uncomfortable.

"Explain everything," Molly commanded. "Now."

A while later, Molly and Tom were on their third cup of tea and had demolished the custard creams. Molly had been informed of everything that had gone on since she had gone back to 2011 and was suitably surprised with some of it. But nothing had really shocked her besides the fact that she now had a half-sister. She wasn't angry about it, she just didn't really believe it had happened. However, there were signs of it everywhere as she looked around. She hadn't seen it when they came down, but there was a high chair behind her and toys scattered around the house, including a doll that her foot had found underneath the table.

"So," Tom said. "I suppose you should get back to bed. It's half three."

"I'm not tired anymore," Molly said. "This is just...It's made my mind race, you know?"

Tom nodded. "I remember when I found out your mum was pregnant. It was mad. She's almost like a surrogate for me now."

"It's just weird for me to be back with her...whenever she gets back."

"Yeah, it must be hard with no contact."

Molly nodded. "I knew I'd come back. I promised her the day I went back."

"Well, I know you're not tired," Tom said. "But I am. I'll get you to your room and you can do whatever from there."

"Like draw?" she asked, a grin on her face.

"You and that bloody drawing!" Tom picked her up and carried her up the stairs. She rode comfortably in his arms and he took her into her room, depositing her on the bed.

"Night, Molls," he said, walking to the door.

"Wait," she called.

Tom stopped, turning. "Is something wrong?"

"You're not even going to kiss me? You say how much you've missed me the past couple days and years, and you're not even going to give me a peck on the cheek?"

Tom grinned apologetically. "I didn't think you'd..."

"Of course I do. Get over here. I can't move," she said, waggling her cast-encased foot.

Tom grinned and nodded. "Yes ma'am!" He moved over to her and knelt down next to the bed, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. "How's that?"

"Mm. Could use work. Here, let me show you. Come here." She patted the spot next to her on the bed. Tom climbed up on the bed and sat straight up, like an eager schoolboy. "Twit," she murmured, before pulling his face down to meet hers.

After a while, they broke apart. "Better," Molly said.

"Yes, but I think you could use some work," Tom muttered before his mouth descended on hers once more.

~(*)~

Molly woke up to the door slamming downstairs. Tom's arm was over her; he was still sound asleep.

"_Tom?" _she heard her mother call. _"Molly?"_

"Tom. Shit! Tom!" she whispered, trying to wake him up. He snorted.

"Whuh?"

"Get out! Mum's home!"

"Shit!" he said, waking up immediately. Tom pulled his boxers on and ran out of the room as Molly hurriedly pulled her pyjamas back on and pulled the covers up to make it look as though she'd still been asleep. She made her breathing slow and deep, trying not to aggravate her ribs too much. Being with Tom last night had been painful, but worth it. She didn't regret it in the slightest.

"Molls?" she heard her mum murmur as her bedroom door opened. Molly feigned waking up and peered at her mother sleepily.

"Mum? What are you doing home so early?"

"It's not early, Molls, it's gone two."

_Oops. _

"I couldn't sleep last night, so Tom and I stayed up downstairs and demolished your custard creams."

Alex grinned. "I just bought him a new packet of those! He's just going to have to suffer next time he's here."

"Cruel, Mum," Molly said, grinning as well.

"So how was your weekend?" Alex asked.

"Er...I'm not sure," Molly said.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't remember anything until about three last night. Got everything before that perfectly though."

"You got your memory back, Molly?"

Molly nodded. "It was a bit confusing, but Tom set me straight on the stuff going on here. I can't believe you have another daughter!"

"It was a bit of a surprise," Alex admitted.

"So are you and Gene gonna get married?"

The corners of Alex's mouth twitched. "Dunno. Maybe eventually. Amelie's got Hunt as a surname anyway."

"Well, where is she? Do I get to meet her?"

"For God's sake, Dellucci! There are women around here! Wear a bloody vest to bed or something!" Gene's voice teasingly erupted from down the hall. There were giggles of a little girl as well.

"I assume she'll be in Tom's room," Alex said, grinning.

"I don't care!" Gene said in reply, his tone still teasing. "Amelie doesn't want to see your nipples poking out at her! Put that shit away, son!"

"Gene!" Alex called from just outside Molly's door. "No cursing in front of her!"

"Oh right... Sorry, Bolly!" he replied. "Amelie, go to Mummy!"

Molly heard the giggle of the little girl and watched as Alex knelt with her arms open. Soon enough, a blonde haired girl toddled into Alex's waiting arms.

"You did it!" Alex said joyfully.

"I big girl!" the child responded in a clear high voice.

"Yes, you're a very big girl," Alex agreed. "Do you want to meet your sister, Amelie?"

Amelie nodded and Alex carried the child into Molly's room. "Am, this is Molly."

"Hi Amelie," Molly said, a big grin on her face. The child looked at her with silvery blue eyes and smiled back.

"Hi Molly. I Amelie. You better now?"

"Not quite. A few more weeks and then I'll be all better," Molly replied, instantly loving her half sister.

"You play horsies with me?" Amelie asked.

"Sure, why not?"

"_Bambina, _you've already conned me into playing horsies with you!" Tom said from the doorway, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. "You can't beg two people in one day!"

Amelie just grinned and sat down, starting to pull her shoes off. Gene appeared in the room, spotting his child immediately. "I don't think so, little lady," he said sternly. "We take our shoes off in our room."

Molly started to laugh. "I'll be putting mine in the kitchen," Molly said in an undertone to her mother. Alex burst out laughing and Gene looked up and glared. "You better not be plotting against me."

"When would we ever do that?" Molly asked innocently.

"Well there was that time when we hid his scotch."

"And the night we got Luigi to tell him the house rubbish was sold out."

The two burst out laughing and Gene just glared, pretending to be hurt. "Jesus Christ Tom. Let's get out of this oestrogen ocean and play some football."

"Can't," Alex managed. "The football's at Fenchurch East. Remember? You took it so you, Chris, Ray and Viv could kick it around on Friday.

"Bloody hell. What am I supposed to do?"

"Make us dinner," Molly offered.

He just glared at her. "I think not."

"Daddy makes dinner!" Amelie cried.

He looked down at her and then back at Alex and Molly who were in tears. "I'm getting Am out of here before you two corrupt her anymore."

With that, Gene picked up Amelie and huffed out of the room. Tom winked and followed, leaving Molly and Alex alone.

"So what happened to bring you back here?" Alex asked.

"I saw Tom across the street and started walking across without paying attention. I think I was hit by a bus."

"Oh Molls," her mum said sympathetically.

"It was my time. All the people I loved were dead. Evan died in April of 2015. Dad actually went to that funeral."

"Tosser," Alex muttered under her breath.

"I think he feels bad about something with you though. He left a summer snowflake on your grave. Only about seven years too late. But it's something."

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm just glad you're back, Molly." Alex wrapped her in a hug and Molly responded, squeezing her tight.

"Me too," she said.

In the beginning she had only wanted her mum. But when she had gone back to 2011, she realised that she wanted much more. Most people couldn't get the ones they loved back. But she did. She had her mother and Tom, and though she didn't know them before her time in the eighties, she had Gene and Amelie as well. In the beginning her world had been frozen solid, never moving, not turning. But slowly over the years the ice had melted until now, when it was turning freely and she was happy. This world may not be heaven, but it was her paradise.

Molly smiled as her mother left the room. Everything had worked out. She was where she wanted to be, together with Tom, her mother, Amelie and Gene, forever.

**Rant**

**I've finally done a happy ending. What do you know? ;)**


End file.
